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RLES MORR 


Chicago: 
\/1cNally & Co 

'UBL1SHERS 






1 



Z ON WEISS 


A CREAM FOR THE TEETH. 

lias received the enthusiastic endorsement of some of the most eminent 
chemists, and is praised by dentists and refined people everywhere. Zonweiss 
is a pure white Cream, made from new and expensive material, and contains no 
acids, alkalies, hard grit or other ingredients injurious to the delicate enamel of 
the teeth. It is applied to the brush by means of a little celluloid ivory spoon 
accompanying each jar. Sold by all druggists or sent by mail on receipt of 
35 cents, by 

JOHNSON & JOHNSON, 

Operative Chemists. NEW YORK. 


GLOBE DETECTIVE SERIES. 

No. 1. June, 1887. Issued Monthly. Subscription, $4,00. 

Entered at the Post Office, Chicago, as second-class matter. 


THE STOLEN LETTER; 


OR, 


Frank Sharp, the Washington Detective. 


BY 



CHARLES MORRIS, 


AUTHOR OF “THE DETECTIVE’S CRIME,” ETC., ETC. 




CHICAGO: 

Rand, McNally & Company, Publishers, 

148, 150, 152 AND 154 MONROE STREET; and 
323 BROADWAY, NEW YORK. 

1887. 






Copyright, 1887, by Rand, McNally & Co., Printers and Publishers, Chicago. 


THE STOLEN LETTER; 


OR, 

FRANK SHARP, THE WASHINGTON DETECTIVE. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE TRICK OF AN OLD FOX. 

We find ourselves in the interior of a small, 
but richly furnished and remarkably beautiful 
apartment, in a stately mansion of the city of 
Washington. 

The windows are adorned with curtains of 
priceless lace, drawn over crimson drapery. 
The costliest product of Persian looms covers 
the floor. The furniture is of the most artistic 
finish and the rarest woods. Delicate perfumes 
permeate the atmosphere. Boundless wealth 
and the highest taste seem combined to render 
that room a gem of beauty and splendor. 

Yet, in its midst stands a woman whose 
beauty throws into shadow that of her rich sur- 
roundings, 


6 


THE STOLEN LETT EH 


Tall, stately, with a form that surpassed the 
rarest work of Greek sculpture, and a face whose 
charm no painter could hope to put on canvas, 
she was attired in the richest lace and velvet, 
while jewels worth a queens ransom sparkled 
on snowy throat and taper fingers, and in the 
wavy wealth of rich brown hair. 

Despite her stately dignity she was young. 
.Age had not yet laid its fingers on tfte satiny 
smoothness of that clear skin, nor pressed more 
than the most charming dimple into the soft- 
ness of her peach-hued cheek. 

Yet, rich, young, beautiful, and regally dress- 
ed as the lady appeared, she was evidently ill at 
ease and ruffled in temper. 

There was an open letter in her hand, half 
crushed between the delicate fingers, while her 
eyes sparkled with anger, and she bit her lip 
until the blood seemed ready to stain the ivory 
luster of her teeth. 

“ How darehe write me this ? ” she exclaimed, 
tapping the floor with her foot in vexed impa- 
tience. “ I have not given him an atom of en- 
couragement. Yet the reckless boy dares — 
dares — to send me an avowal of love.” 

She ran her burning eye again over the writ- 
ten sheet. 

“ And hints that I have led him on to this 


THE THICK OF AN OLD FOX. 7 

madness ! That I have made advances ! Good 
heavens, if General Gordon should see this 1 
would be ruined ! It would fearfully compro- 
mise me. And he would shoot that wild fool of 
a boy. 

“ It must be destroyed at once — instantly ! ” 
she resumed. “ He will be here in a moment 
to take me to the opera. If he should find this 
in my hands ” 

She looked hastily and anxiously around her. 
How should she destroy it so that no tell-tale 
fragment might rise in evidence against her ? 

There was no means of burning it. If torn 
to pieces there was no safe place of concealment. 
Her eyes gleamed with concern, dread and vex- 
ation. 

“ There is but one means,” she cried, desper- 
ately. “ The grate fire in the library ! I may 
have time to reach it and return before my 
husband comes.” 

She took a, hasty step towards the door. 
Then she stopped and drew back convulsively, 
while a look of despair came into her expressive 
features. 

“ It is too late ! He is here ! ” 

A footstep had sounded in the hall without. 
A hand was already upon the door. 

It was too late! Too late to conceal the 


8 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


dangerous letter! Too late to even thrust it 
into her pocket! 

With a quick movement she laid it upon the 
table, with the written side downward, and only 
the address visible, and with a hasty step glided 
across the room. 

When the door opened she was bending over 
a bouquet of delicate flowers, that lay upon an 
ivory stand at the side of the room, her willowy 
figure curving in an attitude of grace that would 
have made the fortune of a sculptor. 

The person who had entered was a sedate 
and somewhat portly gentleman, with a proud 
and handsome face, and an air as if in his veins 
ran the blood of a hundred generations of noble- 
men. 

He was attired in a neatly-fitting dress suit. 

“ Come, Lucile, are you ready ? ” he remarked 
in a quiet tone. 

“ Ready and waiting, George,” she replied, 
turning quickly, with a flush on her ivory cheek 
but no other sign of her recent excitement 
“ Let us start at once. We shall be late.” 

She moved quickly towards him, carrying the 
bouquet, with a concealed desire to hasten him 
from the room, and from the vicinity of that 
perilous paper. 

“ There is plenty of time,” he replied with a 


THE TRICK OF AN OLD FOX. 9 

laugh. “You have not looked at the clock, I 
fancy. Wait, there is a matter of which I wish 
to speak to you before we go.” 

“ If there is time,” she said, hesitatingly. 

“Have I not said there is time ? You are 
not usually in such haste. Let me have a scrap 
of paper, Lucile. Or, no matter, this will do.” 

He stretched his hand towards the fatal 
letter. 

It was a moment of deadly peril. Only the 
highest courage and quickest wit could have 
saved the imperiled woman from ruin. 

An instant shudder ran through her frame, 
as if she had felt an electric shock. Yet it was 
the spasm of a second. The next moment she 
was erect and calm, while a smile lay on her 
speaking face. 

“ You shall not scribble upon my letters,” 
she declared with a nervous laugh, as she laid 
her hand on the epistle. “ That is just like 
you. You have no sentiment. Here is paper- 
I wonder what Jenny Maitland would say if I 
told her that you used her letters to figure up 
the price of cabbage . 

“ That would just suit Jenny. She likes 
cabbage,” he lightly replied, as he took the 
scrap of paper she offered him. “ But I will 
spare her missive for the present, I sup- 


10 


THE STOLEN LETTEE. 


pose it is scribbled full of loves and doves and 
that sort of thing. Come over here where there 
is more light.” 

These last remarks had been heard by 
other ears than those for whom they were in- 
tended. & 

Just outside the open door stood a third per- 
sonage, a slender-framed but wiry-looking in- 
dividual, with a rather thin face, and small, 
sharp eyes. 

He was dressed as well as General Gordon 
himself, and seemed a personage of importance. 
Yet there was a foxy expression upon his face 
as he listened, a look of unprincipled cunning 
that bespoke a man into whose clutches it was 
not safe to fall. 

He stepped forward just as husband and wife 
reached the window, and announced his pres- 
ence by a slight cough. 

General Gordon turned quickly toward the 
visitor. 

“ Oh, it is you, Mr. Martindale ! Can you 
excuse me for two minutes? ” 

“ Ten, if you wish, Mr. Secretary. My time, 
just now, is not precious.” 

“ Take a seat, pray-” 

Mrs. Gordon’s face was a study at the mo- 
ment in which her eyes fell upon the visitor. 


A TRAP FOR AN OLD FOX. 


11 


There was a slight start, a look of momentary 
terror, then a quick drawing up of her tall form, 
and a concealed defiance in her ceremonious 
bow. 

Mr. Martindale returned it with easy dignity. 
He took a seat near the table, his narrow eyes 
roving round the room in the manner of a de- 
tective- 

They fell on the letter that lay on the table. 
A slight movement followed, though the expres- 
sion of his face remained without change- 

General and Mrs. Gordon were now con- 
versing in low tones in the alcoved window, the 
lady facing the visitor, while the back of her 
husband was towards him- 

Mr. Martindale drew his chair nearer the 
table, while his shrewd eyes furtively scanned 
the address of the letter- Despite her self-pos- 
session Mrs- Gordon’s foot tapped the floor 
nervously- 

“Jenny Maitland!” muttered the visitor. 
“ That is no lady’s hand. And I fancy I have 
seen it before. Ha! Lucile Gordon, you are 
playing a double game ! I would give my 
soul to have you in my power. Is the chance 
now within my reach ? ” 

The lady’s eyes were on him and seemed 
reading every movement of his crafty soul, 


12 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


Yet she dared not speak, dared not look her 
thoughts. She was in a position of cruel em- 
barrassment. 

The next moment Mr. Martindale drew a 
letter from his pocket, opened it, and seemed 
intent upon its perusal. General Gordon looked 
around. 

tc In a moment, Martindale. I see you are 
not losing time.” 

“ I am- at your service, General.” 

The secretary turned back. 

“What is the matter, Lucile? You are 
shuddering.” 

At that instant Mr. Martindale had cast upon 
her a look of insolent triumph. 

“ A breath of cold air struck me. I think 
that window must be slightly open.” 

“ Step away from it, then. But it is near 
opera time. We must finish this matter to-mor- 
row. Have you anything for me from the de- 
partment, Martindale ? ” 

He had turned and walked towards the center 
of the room as he spoke. 

“Yes,” said the visitor, rising and letting his 
letter fall with seeming carelessness beside that 
which lay on the table- 

“ There is a document here which needs 
your approval and signature,” 


A Trap for ax old fox. is 

He handed a large official paper to the cabi- 
net officer. 

“ I will attend to it to-morrow. Are you for 
the opera, Martindale ? ” 

“ Not to-night, by bad luck. There is a 
meeting of a senate committee at which I must 
play martyr.” 

He moved to pick up his fallen letter. But 
it was the wrong document on which his hand 
fell. It was that of Mrs. Gordon which he care- 
lessly folded and thrust into his pocket, with a 
look of easy preoccupation. 

This time the teeth of the ±ady closed on her 
lip till the blood actually started. Her breast 
heaved as if her heart would break through in 
a spasm. Her eyes fixed themselves on her 
enemy with a threatening glance. 

But he met her gaze with a faint, mocking 
smile, of deep malignity. 

All this by-play was lost on General Gordon, 
who was engaged in laying aside the document 
he had received. 

“ Can you not drop the committee meeting, 
Martindale ? I can offer you a seat in my 
box.” 

“ Many thanks, General. But it is impossible. 
I would give much for the pleasure of your soci- 
ety during the evening, and that of Mrs. Gordon 


14 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


— ” he bowed in deep deference to the lady — 
“ if it were not for that sour old axiom of ‘duty 
before pleasure.’ ” 

“ I am sorry. But we must go. Is there 
anything more ? ” 

“ No. I must be going also. I have, fortu- 
nately, a little bit of pleasure in prospect.” 

His eyes were fixed on Mrs. Gordon with an 
enigmatical look. But she had recovered her 
composure. As she passed she whispered in 
his ear, in a low but intense tone. 

“ The truce is at an end, then ? W ar is 
declared ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ So be it. I am ready-” 

She swept away behind her husband with the 
air of a duchess. 

Martindale’s eyes followed her with admira- 
tion. There was a proud courage in that 
beautiful woman that forced admiration from 
his crafty soul. 

He followed, the smile of cunning triumph 
again curling his lips. 

In a few minutes more two carriages had 
rolled away from the house- 

One was the handsome equipage of the cabi- 
net officer in which General and Mrs. Gordon 
rode to the opera : — a play which the lady was 


THE THICK OF AN OLD FOX. 15 

not likely to enjoy. She had a private drama, 
mayhap a tragedy, to occupy her mind. 

The other was the less showy carriage of 
the diplomatic visitor. 

He lay back with an air of deep satisfaction 
on the soft cushions of the swift-moving vehicle, 
with his hand on the breast pocket in which the 
stolen letter lay. 

“ It is a glorious nights work,” he said tri- 
umphantly. “ I fancy I have the proud Mrs. 
Gordon under my thumb- If so, my fortune is 
made. I burn to get home where I can read 
this precious treasure in safety. It is young 
Lindsay’s writing, or I never saw it. Aha! my 
haughty beauty, you are at my feet now ! ” 

Four hours after that moment General Gor- 
don and his lady again entered their magnifi- 
cent mansion. The secretary was as erect and 
dignified as ever. His wife seemed weary and 
worn out, and hung heavily on his arm as they 
entered the boudoir- 

“ A stupid affair, that opera. You look tired, 
Lucile. I am glad to be home myself. So 
this is from Jenny Maitland, eh ? What has 
she to say ? ” 

He picked up the letter that lay on the 
table. 

“ Why, this is not her writing ! It is a man’s 


i 0 'THE SfOLM LEfftik. 

hand ! Well, I declare if Martindale has not 
stupidly left his own letter and carried off 
yours. I hope there were no secrets in it you 
would not want that fox to read.” 

“ Perhaps he did it purposely, George . ” * 

She rested her hand on a chair to sustain her 
trembling frame. 

“ Perhaps. He would do anything mean to 
pry into a secret. I will get the letter back for 
you to-morrow, Lucile.” 

“ Oh, never mind it. It is of no importance,” 
she replied, growing somewhat pale as she 
sank into a chair. “ I declare I did not know 
I was so tired.” 


A NIGHT AT THE CASINO, 


17 


CHAPTER II. 

A NIGHT AT THE CASINO. 

Every phase of human life, from the lowest 
to the highest, from the most virtuous to the most 
dissolute, can be found within the mighty capital 
of the Union. 

Little more than a step is needed to take us 
from the palace to the hovel. We can pass at 
will from the hall of splendor to the seat of 
crime or of unbounded dissipation. 

From the scene of our last chapter, with its 
richness of decoration, its deceit and its trickery, 
we pass at once to a scene of little less splen- 
dor, yet which displays an entirely different 
phase of the mystery and misery of human 
life. 

Bright lights gleam everywhere. The sparkle 
of silver and the luster of ivory add brilliance 
to the gay decorations of the extensive room. 

The sound of excited talk, the ring of loud 
laughter, with the intense bitterness of an oc- 


18 THE STOLEN LETTER . 

casional curse, or stifled cry of despair, come 
from the dense crowd that fills the room. 

Mingled with it is a peculiar clattering sound, 
and the tones of low, dull, passionless voices, 
at the many tables around which the throng 
closely clusters. 

It is, in fact, a great gambling center ; one 
that is the haunt of official gamesters, and with- 
in whose walls gather the rich prodigals of the 
American Paris. 

The games are now in full play, and money 
is being lost and won with phenomenal rapidity. 
There are women as well as men in the room, 
worshiping the blind god Fortune with fevered 
souls and faces. 

But it is with two only of these persons we 
are particularly concerned. 

One of them is a young man, of not more 
than twenty-two or three years of age, hand- 
some and distinguished in appearance, and 
with a look of culture and intellect on his 
broad brow. 

Yet just now a mingled despair and reckless- 
ness mark his flushed face. Mis eyes sparkle 
with the wild fever of the gambler- His hat is 
thrust back and his hair disheveled as he 
watches the machine-like movements of the 
“ banker’s ” hands. 


A NIGHT AT THE CASINO . 


19 


The person at his side is several years 
older, and of a steady, earnest expression. He 
is not one to be taken by the passion of gam- 
ing, yet seems just now full of concern at his 
friend’s infatuation. 

“ Come, Harry,” he whispered, “isn’t it time 
for you to listen to reason ? You have been 
steadily losing. If you go on you will be cleaned 
out completely.” 

“ Cleaned out of what ! Money ? What 
care I for money ? ” demands the other in a 
reckless tone- “ Do you suppose it is the rub- 
bish of cash that is troubling me ?” 

“It might well be- You have lost five 
thousand dollars now.” 

“ A fig for that ! And a fig for life ! I have 
something that would drive common men to 
the pistol or the rope. It has only driven me 
to the gaming-table.” 

“Ah!” replied the other, with concern. 
“ What is that ? I thought your life was as 
smooth as a rivulet. Can I not help you ? ” 

“ No, nothing and nobody can help me. As 
for the money I have another five thousand 
left, and here it goes on the red. If I lose, 
there is still the pistol or the rope. 

His older friend tried to draw the reckless 
youth away from the fatal fascination of the 
table — but in vain. 


^0 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


He broke from his friendly grasp and dashed 
the last contents of his pocket on the red side 
of the rouge-et-noir table with an utter reck- 
lessness. 

“ Five thousand dollars on the red,” he cried, 
in a tone that drew the attention of all to 
him. 

He looked hot and fevered, yet it did not seem 
the fever of the gambler. His eyes were turned 
away from the money, with a far-away look of 
desperation, as if he despised the results of fort- 
une. 

“ Red wins,” came in the stolid tones of the 
banker. 

“ You are even now, Harry. Withdraw,” 
whispered his friend. 

“ Make your bets, gentlemen,” said the steady 
voiced banker. 

“ On the red, still,” cried Harry. 

Again the red won. 

Despite the entreaties of his friend the 
young gamester let his money lie, again doub- 
ling his bet. 

Yet fortune seemed to favor him now as 
much as it had before gone against him. Again 
and again, red came up the winning color. 

Every eye was now directed on the reckless 
player, who seemed so utterly heedless of re- 


A NIGHT AT THE CASINO. 


21 


suits, yet to whom fortune seemed to cling 
persistently. 

Eighty thousand dollars lay before him, on 
the board, as a result of his doubling bets. 

Yet he made no movement to take it up, and 
stood with the coolness of a statue, evidently 
paying but little attention to the run of the 
cards. 

Yet his quiet friend was now quivering with 
excitement, and even the man of stone and 
iron that dealt the cards showed some signs of 
nervousness. 

With a hand that slightly trembled he 
turned the next card. 

A sudden drawing: of the breath and a slight 
cry came from the observers. 

Red had again appeared. With a thousand 
chances to one against him the reckless game- 
ster had again won. 

A buzz of whispering went around. With a 
recovery of his stolid manner the banker paid 
the bets he had lost, put away his “ lay-out,” 
and closed and locked the cash drawer of his 
table. 

“ There will be no more play to-night at this 
table, gentlemen,” he announced in a wooden 
voice. 

“ I hope you are satisfied now, Harry,” re- 


22 


THE STOLEN LETTER . 


marked his friend. “You have broken the 
bank.” 

“ So it appears,” coolly answered the fortu- 
nate youth, as he swept the money from the 
table, and thrust it carelessly into his pocket. 
“ I am in luck, it seems. Had I not better fol- 
low up my fortune at some other table ? ” 

“No! On your life, no ! You were on the 
brink of ruin. A wonderful run of luck has 
saved you. A hundred and sixty thousand 
dollars is no trifle of a fortune. If you are open 
to wise advice you will leave this dangerous 
place, and never touch a card again.” 

The younger man gave a reckless laugh. 

“ A man that is bitten by that dog is not 
cured so easily,” he answered. 

Yet he followed his companion from the 
thronged room to a more open one. 

Neither of them noticed two men, who had 
been closely watching them, and who entered 
this room just in their rear. 

These persons now hurried forward, and the 
foremost of them appeared to stumble, and fell 
against the young gambler, jostling him so 
roughly as to nearly fling* him to the floor. 

The awkward fellow threw his arms around 
him to sustain himself, while his companion 
stepped forward as if to aid. 


A NIGHT AT THE CASINO. 


23 


“ Beg pardon,” the fellow excused himself. 
“ My foot caught in that villainous carpet.” 

He hurried forward without waiting for an 
r answer. His companion, who had taken but a 
step into the room, turned back and vanished 
into the thronged room behind. 

All the young man saw was a short, square- 
built personage, with a bull neck, and rather 
shabbily dressed for that place. 

“ Hang the fellow’s awkwardness,” he mut- 
tered. “ He nearly upset me. Come away 
from this place, Will. I’ve had enough of it 
for to-night. And I have something to tell you. 
I have not played the reckless fool you think 
me, quite without a reason.” 

A few minutes more found them in a car- 
riage, driving rapidly away from that palace of 
gilded vice and despair, but not more rapidly 
than Harry talked as they drove onward, his 
companion listening in silence, though there 
was a growing impatience in his eyes. 

“ Confound you for a wild idiot ! ” he at 
length broke out. “ Was it not enough for you 
to compromise yourself ? I never heard of any- 
thing more foolish and ridiculous.” 

“ She has not answered,” cried Harry, dis- 
tractedly. “ She despises me. I am sure she 
does. She has driven me to desperation, Will.” 


24 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


“You? You had best think of her a little, 
and less of yourself. It was the act of a mad- 
man. Don't you know that her husband is 
the most jealous man in all America? And it 
is said that he reads all her letters l Suppose 
he should get hold of your mad epistle ! There 
would be the very devil to pay.” 

“ She is no fool. She will burn it,” declared 
Harry. 

“ She may not have the chance. You had no 
right to expose her to such a danger.” 

“ I didn't know what I was doing. I was 
distracted with love for the woman. I was 
wild — mad — insane.” 

“ That is the truth. And you may have made 
a sweet pickle. If that crazy epistle falls into 
General Gordon’s hands he will shoot you, as 
sure as you are a living man ! ” 

Harry lay back on the cushions of the car- 
riage, his eyes fixed straight forward. It was 
evident he was not thinking of the revenge of 
General Gordon. 

“ Do you think she will answer ? ” he queried 
in a pleading tone. 

“ Answer ? Do you fancy she is as great a 
fool as yourself ? ” 

“ I tell you I am distractedly in love with 
her!” 


A NIGHT AT THE CASINO. 


25 


“ It is about time for an end to this, Harry 
Lindsay. You have no right to talk this way 
about another man’s wife. She is a pure, good 
woman, and you have put her reputation in 
deadly peril.” 

“ I can’t help it. She has no right to be mar- 
ried to that cold-blooded politician, when I love 
her so madly.” 

Will threw himself angrily back. There 
was no use in talking to a fellow in Harry’s 
mood. He was in the temper for any desper- 
ate act. 

“ Do you think she will answer ? ” he again 
queried. 

“ No. Not if she is the woman I take her to 
be.” 

“ I think she will. I know she despises 
General Gordon. I know she more than half 
loves me. I am not blind.” 

Will clenched his teeth, but would not an- 
swer. It was idle to debate with such infatua- 
tion. 

In a few minutes afterwards the carriage 
drew up before a house of some pretensions, in 
a quiet street. 

The two friends entered and proceeded up- 
stairs together, to a luxuriously furnished room 
on the second floor. 


26 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


Harry threw himself in an easy chair, motion- 
ing Will to another. 

He flung his hat to a sofa across the room* 

“ I can’t make myself over, Will Benton,” he 
said, in a reckless tone, “ I have always gone 
straight toward my goal, without stopping to 
count obstacles. It is my way, and I always 
will. As - for this mad letter, as you call it, I 
expect an answer.” 

“ You will never get it-” 

“ I will not, eh ? What do you call this? ” 
He laid his hand in triumph on a daintily 
folded epistle that lay on the red cover of the 
table- “ Do you recognize that handwriting ? ” 

Will looked at it, and drew his breath hard. 

“ Is the woman mad too ? ” he ejaculated. 

With a laugh of hope and triumph the en- 
amored youth drew his penknife and carefully 
opened the letter, while his face shone, and his 
eyes beamed with hope. 

Will lay back and looked in a sort of grim 
despair at his infatuated friend. Here was a 
job he had not bargained for- It was an ugly 
business all through, and he scented trouble 
ahead. 

But as he looked a change came over the 
lover’s face. His flush gave way to pallor. 
His eyes grew troubled- The hand that held 


A NIGHT AT THE CASINO. 


27 


the letter came down with a savage blow on 
the table, while a muttered oath left his lips. 

“ By Heavens, you are right, Will! I have 
played the idiot. There is a pretty kettle of 
fish.” 

“ Ha ! ” cried Will. I knew it. What is 
wrong ? Did General Gordon read the letter ? ” 

“ Worse than that.” 

‘‘ Worse ? What worse can there be ? ” 

“It lias got into worse than General Gor- 
don’s hands. It has been stolen by her deepest 
enemy, and the craftiest villain in Washington. 
Fool that I was, I have got her into a deuce of 
an ugly scrape. He will hold the letter over 
her, and make her the slave of his whims- I 
could kill myself for my madness. What shall 
I do, Will ? ” 

“ Kill yourself- That is the quickest way 
out of the scrape.” 

“ That will not help her. She says I must 
get the letter back. It will be no easy job, for 
the man who has it is as cunning as a fox. 
And we dare not proceed openly. We dare 
not acknowledge that there is such a letter in 
existence.” 

“ Who is the man ? ” 

“Julius Martindale, of the Department of 
State-” 


28 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


“ Good Heavens ! That man ? Why, all the 
detectives in America cannot match him in 
shrewdness.’’ 

“ I must employ the sharpest of our detec- 
tives- That letter I must and will have. She 
says I must not hesitate to spend money freely. 
Thank the Lord for my luck on the red’ A 
man can do a good deal with a hundred and 
sixty thousand dollars.” 

He was thrusting his hand into his pocket 
for the money, when Will checked him. 

“You have a big job before you, Harry Lind- 
say,” he coolly remarked. “You will have to 
change your hasty nature, and become as cool 
and cunning as the man you are dealing with. 
And for the first move, here is a light, there is 
that letter. It must be turned into ashes on 
the spot.’ 

Harry started at these words. 

“ Burn it ? The only thing I have in her 
handwriting ? ” 

“ Yes. Not a corner must be left-” 

“ I cannot do it.” 

“ Then I will.” 

He picked up the dainty sheet, lit it at the 
gas jet, and held it over the hearth while the 
flame quickly ran over its white surface. 

The lover held his hand over his eyes, as if 


A NIGHT AT THE CASINO. 


29 


the flame had been touched to the finders of 
the lady herself. 

“There; that firebrand is out of the way. 
You have brought me into this business, Harry, 
and I am going to manage it. You must have 
the best professional aid in Washington.” 

“ Which I am in shape to pay for, thanks to 
dame Fortune,” said Harry gayly, as he thrust 
his hand into the pocket into which he had 
crowded his winnings. 

But a blank look suddenly came into his face. 
He shook as in an ague, while his eyes grew 
frightened. 

“ What is the matter, man ? Have you seen 
a ghost ? ” demanded Will. 

“ It is gone ! ” came in a startled whisper. 

“ Gone ? what is gone ? ” 

“ The money ! My pocket is empty 1 I 
have been robbed 1 ” 

‘‘The deuce 1 ” Will slapped his knee in ex- 
citement. “ You must be mistaken. It is in 
some other pocket.” 

“ No, I put it in this. It is gone, I say.” 

Will looked at him half stupidly. Then a 
quick light came into his eyes. 

“ Ha! I have it now! The man who stum- 
bled against you at the Casino ! ” 

“ That is it ! cried Harry excitedly. “ I was 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


SO 

robbed then ! Fool that I was to give him the 
chance • ” 

The two friends looked at each other with 
troubled eyes. The game was deepening. 
There was already an ocean of work before 

them. 


A TRAIL THROUGH WASHINGTON STREETS . 31 


CHAPTER III. 

A TRAIL THROUGH WASHINGTON STREETS. 

The incident at the Casino had not passed 
quite without observation. At the door of the 
room in which it occurred stood a slender, plainly 
dressed individual, with a thin, beardless face, 
and quiet gray eyes. 

He was leaning against the door-post, care- 
lessly switching his boot with a light cane- 

The encounter had taken place so quickly 
that it was nearly over before his attention was 
attracted. 

He raised his eyes with a quick movement 
and took in the scene at a glance. He was 
just in time to perceive one man vanishing into 
the gaming rooms. 

The other was coming towards the door, 
against which he leaned. His eyes quietly 
scanned the face of the latter, while a peculiar 
expression came into those steel-gray orbs. 

As the man passed through the door the ob- 
server caught the expressions of the two young 


32 


The stolen letter. 


men. Then, with a quick movement, he turned 
and left the room- 

The coarsely dressed personage was yet in 
the anteroom, walking hurriedly forward- The 
thin personage seemed to have business in the 
same direction. 

A few minutes took them both into the 
Street- 

Others were coming and going, so that there 
was no sign of pursuit in this movement. 

A dozen carriages stood before the door, 
which was brilliantly lighted. 

The man, who had just reached the pavement, 
paused for a second only, then took a few steps 
southward, and turned and crossed through 
the line of carriages. He seemed seeking the 
shadowed region on the other side of the 
avenue- 

His seeming pursuer lounged on as if looking 
for a carriage. There was no evidence of pur- 
suit. Yet when the man in advance had 
reached a dark cross-street, and plunged into its 
gloom, the slender personage was not fifty paces 
behind him- 

Up to this moment the pursued man had not 
paused for an instant, nor cast a glance behind 

him. 

He had hastened onward like one in dread of 


A TRAIL THROUGH WASHINGTON STREETS . 33 

a hue and cry. Now, however, he stopped, 
turned sharply on his heel, and looked back 
keenly towards the lighted street. 

There was nothing visible to arouse his sus- 
picions. People were coming and going under 
the lights, but no evidence of excitement ap- 
peared, and the street in which he stood seemed 
deserted. 

He muttered something in a tone of satisfac- 
tion, and pushed onward more leisurely, as if 
satisfied that he was in no danger. 

He had hardly done so ere, from under the 
dark shadows of an overarching doorway, ap- 
peared the second individual, who put himself 
instantly on his track. 

Quick and expert as the experienced fellow 
had been there was one in his rear who seemed 
quicker and more expert. 

In that locality the streets of the capital form 
a perfect labyrinth, winding and crossing until 
only one thoroughly acquainted with the city 
could have gone rapidly through them at that 
hour without losing his way. 

It was an awkward locality for pursuit, since 
the pursuer had to keep but a few paces in the 
rear, lest he should lose his prey in some of the 
intricacies of the dimly lighted avenues. 

Yet so keen was the scout that the sharp fel- 
3 


34 


THE STOLEN LETTER . 


low in advance never dreamed that there was a 
sleuth-hound on his track. 

The footsteps of the pursuer fell like velvet 
on the stone pavement. No shadow of a sound 
came from them. 

He glided along like a ghost close by the 
walls of the range of houses, avoiding every 
street lamp, halting for an instant in every 
doorway, crouching under every cornice. 

With a seemingly habitual suspicion the man 
in advance kept looking dubiously around and 
behind him, like one who always scented dan- 
ger in the wind. 

But he saw and heard nothing. He was pur- 
sued by a specter rather than a man. The dark 
brown attire of the scout was in exact tone with 
the nightly shadows, and rendered him almost 
invisible. 

Ere long a different locality was gained. 
That dark region of low warehouses and tumble- 
down offices was left behind, and the two 
men emerged into a broader and more open 
street. 

Here there were numerous gas lights, and 
the deserted condition of the region just trav- 
ersed was replaced by a steady flow of people, 
moving in both directions. 

Carriages and cabs rolled swiftly by in the 


A TRAIL THROUGH WASHINGTON STREETS. 35 

street, and the full tide of life seemed in busy 
motion. 

The pursuer now took a different course. He 
crossed the street and hurried forward until he 
had passed his prey, who was proceeding more 
slowly on the opposite side of the way. 

Leaving him some distance in the rear he 
again crossed and walked towards him, timing 
his steps so as to meet him face to face beneath 
a gas lamp. 

The steady gray eyes of the scout fixed them- 
selves for an instant only on the coarse and 
thick-lipped face before him, now lit up by the 
full glare of the lamp. 

There was an affectation of smartness about 
the man. A waxed mustache adorned his 
upper lip. He was dressed somewhat jauntily, 
though in well-worn clothing. But his smart- 
ness did not look natural. It seemed to have 
been put on for a purpose. 

The alert scout let him pass. But the unsus- 
picious man had not gone far ere he was again 
under those quiet but keen eyes. 

“ I don’t know him,” said the pursuer to him- 
self, with a dubious shake of the head. “ But 
I must certainly make his acquaintance. He 
was not at the Casino without a purpose. And 
if I am not mistaken a certain young gentleman 


36 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


will find himself with an empty pocket to-mor- 
row. I must positively make this masquerader's 
acquaintance. ” 

The chase continued through one or two 
miles more of Washington streets. With the 
untiring energy of the Indian scout the pursuer 
kept on the track of his unsuspecting prey. 
Finally he traced him into the squalid region of 
the Georgetown flats, that home of poverty, 
wretchedness and crime, where no well-dressed 
man is sure of his life for an hour unless under 
the protection of the police- 

Yet the spy seemed as much at home here as 
in the more respectable street he had left. 

One or two ruffianly individuals approached 
and glanced at him with fierce and hungry eyes. 

But a single look from those gray orbs sent 
them scared and muttering away. It was as if 
a shaft of steel had shot into their brains from 
those keen organs. 

One of those fellows looked after him with a 
murderous glare. 

“‘The Little Joker’” he hissed. “What 
ther blue blazes is he arter here ? Like ter guv 
him a socker ’tween ther ribs, curse ’im ! but 
mought as well try ter smash a flea with a fence 
rail. I’m desprat affeared on him, coz he’s a 
perfect terror when he wakes up.” 


A TRAIL THROUGH WASHINGTON STREETS . 37 

Heedless of the impression he might create, 
the “ Little Joker,” as he had been dubbed, 
kept on. 

The streets were densely thronged with men, 
women and children, lounging around in squalid 
misery, many of them blear-eyed with drink, and 
most of them there through sheer worthlessness 
and incompetence. 

No one could have told whom the Joker was 
pursuing. He seemed to see every face at 
once, and more than one ruffian shrank back 
from the glance of those gray eyes, in guilty 
consciousness. 

Yet not for an instant did he lose sight 
of the man whose footsteps he had so long 
steadily tracked. He glided through the dense 
crowd with eel-like agility, and kept at an easy 
distance behind his prey. 

Ten minutes more and the tracked man stop- 
ped in front of a house in one of the more re- 
spectable streets of that region. It was a brick 
building, of fair size, though very shabby in ap- 
pearance. 

Here the fellow announced his presence by 
pounding on the door. He lounged against 
the door-post while waiting for a response. 

He had to pound again before any one came. 

Then the door was opened and a frowsy- 
headed woman appeared. 


THE STOLEN LETTER . 


ijs 

“ Ain’t you folks sort o’ slow motioned ? ” asked 
the man in a surly tone. “ Most pounded my 
fist out in fetching you.” 

“ Soak it in hot water and fotch it back 
again,” said the woman, with an independent 
toss of her head. “ I never come afore I’m 
ready. What’s your want?” 

“ Isn’t Slippery Joe in the house?” 

“ Guess not. Won’t never find him here at 
this time ’o night. If you want Joe you'll have 
to try Mike Hardy's gin hole, round the cor- 
ner, or Tony Blake’s mill. Them’s the places 
where he’s most at home.” 

She was on the point of shutting the door in 
his face, but he thrust it open with his foot. 

“ Hold your level, old lady,” he growled. 
“ Can’t you wait till a chap gets through ? I’ve 
got something here ’t ain’t quite safe to carry 
about. I want you to take it, and lock it up 
safe in that oak chest of yours-” 

“ What am I goin’ to get fer it?” she de- 
manded. 44 Im tired o’ doin’ somethin’ for 
nothin’/’ 

“ When did Tom Bruce ever take without giv- 
ing ? ” he queried sternly. 

44 Well, I reckon as how’t that’s so. Hand 
over the plunder then. ’Tain’t nothin’ to git 
me inter trouble ? ” 


A TRAIL THROUGH WASHINGTON STREETS. 89 

“ If you don’t blab yourself, you can bet I 
won’t,” he answered with a laugh. “ Here’s 
the stuff, Poll. It’s safer in your hands than 
in mine, for if I get drunk I haven’t any more 
sense than a bunch of beets-” 

He drew a package from his pocket and 
placed it in her extended hand. 

“ There. Hold tight on to that and you’re 
good for a new Christmas gown.” 

Neither of them dreamed that a pair of ears 
on a very wide-awake head, were within ten 
paces, eagerly drinking in every word of this 
conversation- 

“ Reckon you’ll find Joe down at Blake’s,” 
she said. “ There’s where he hangs round 
most o’ his spare time, drat his picture.” 

“All right, Poll, I’ll fotch him. Mind your 
eye about them spoils, and good-night.” 

He lounged away. The woman did not take 
the trouble to answer his good-night, but stood 
in the door, following him with her eyes. 

“ A despirat rascal, drat him,” she muttered, 
“ And ain’t no good to Joe. But he’s free- 
handed, I’ll say that. Wonder what’s in this 
bundle ? He’s a cute un, and allers has some 
joke afoot. Got to take good care on it, if I 
don’t want my neck wrung.” 

At that moment a slender figure flashed out 


40 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


of the shadows, flitted swiftly past her, and 
with an expert jerk tore the loosely held pack- 
age from her hand. 

“ I’ll save you the trouble of taking care of 
this, madam,” spoke a mocking voice- 

The woman stood for an instant completely 
dumbfounded. Then there came a scream 
from her lips loud enough to waken the dead. 

She leaped from her doorway into the street, 
loudly screaming and vituperating. Several 
persons came running up, among them Tom 
Bruce, who had not got many steps away. 

“ What’s the matter? Who has hurt you ? ” 

“ Robbers ! Thieves ! Bloody murder ’ ” she 
yelled. “ Chase him ! Catch him ! Kill him ! 
Down that way he went. Kill the dirty repro- 
bate ! ” 

But the chase was all in vain. The alert 
thief had utterly disappeared. Not a trace of 
him could be found, though the alarm quickly 
spread for a mile around. 


A FAIR WOMAN'S TROUBLE. 


41 


CHAPTER IV. 

A FAIR WOMAN’S TROUBLE. 

We must return to the boudoir of Mrs. Gor- 
don. She is not alone, and is not seated in her 
usual easy and luxurious attitude. 

On the contrary, she is on her feet standing 
sternly erect, with flashing eyes and compressed 
lips, in front of a person with whom she is in 
conversation. 

This visitor is no other than her declared 
enemy, Julius Martindale, whose thin lips are 
twisted into a diplomatic smile as he politely 
addresses her. 

“ It is well known that you have unbounded 
influence with General Gordon,” he is saying, 
with his foxiest look. “ Of course I cannot ask 
you to use it in my favor. We are at war, are 
we not, Mrs. Secretary Gordon? You have 
said so, at least. I am in favor of declaring 
peace, and a word from you to your husband — ” 

“ That word will never be spoken,’’ she curtly 
interrupted, clinching her fingers nervously. 


42 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


“ Do not be hasty, my dear lady. I think I 
can convince you that it will be to your interest 
to speak it.” 

“ Ah ! Then you have come here to threaten 
me ?” 

“ To threaten ? Oh, certainly not. Simply 
to advise. I really think you had better speak to 
General Gordon. Of course I could offer him 
an inducement myself. But I should be sorry 
to do anything to annoy you. I should be in- 
consolable.” 

He stood before her with an air of affected 
humility, yet there was something in his smile 
and in the look of his eyes that made the proud 
woman shudder. She knew very well what 
this man was capable of, and he had her in his 
power. 

She turned so hastily as to overthrow the 
chair behind her, and strode excitedly across 
the room, heedless of its fall. 

“ Permit me,” said the visitor politely, as he. 
stepped forward and lifted the fallen chair. 

Mrs. Gordon turned suddenly at the remark, 
and faced him. 

Her breast was heaving with violent emotion, 
her face flushed, her eyes full of fire. 

“You snake!” came in a concentrated hiss 
from her lips. 


A PAtll WOMAN'S TROUBLE. 43 

Then she hesitated, recoiled a step, and half 
rested upon a chair behind her, while a pallor 
replaced the flushing glow of her face. 

“Very well, Julius Martindale,” she said, 
v hesitatingly, ancl with difficulty. “ I will speak 
to General Gordon. I will try to move him in 
your favor. Will that suffice ? ” 

“ Thank you ! Thank you a thousand times, 
my dear Mrs. Gordon.” 

“ And now will you be kind enough to leave 
me ? I would be alone. When I have given 
my word there is nothing more.” 

“ I could not think of asking more,” an- 
swered the oily politician, as he turned towards 
the door. “ If 1 had a letter of assurance from 
you I could be no better satisfied. A very good 
day, my dear benefactress. I shall not hesitate 
to solicit your aid whenever I wish a favor.” 

He stepped from the room with his lowest 
bow and his softest smile, as if he had just part- 
ed with his dearest friend. 

Mrs. Gordon remained, resting on the arm 
of her chair, with her hand sunk deep in its 
velvet cushions, as her eyes followed her cun- 
ning enemy from the room. 

She seemed to gasp for breath, and her free 
hand was clinched as if the handle of a dap-ger 
lay within the slender fingers. 


44 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


“ Great Heaven, I would rather die than bear 
this!” she bitterly exclaimed. “And I can 
see that I shall have to bear it again and again. 
I am to be the stepping-stone on which this 
man will mount to fortune. He whom I hate 
as I hate the fiend ! Oh ! it is enouQ-h to make 
me kill myself ! ” 

She sprang up and paced the room excitedly 
back and forth for several minutes, her face 
working as if with the pressure of tumultuous 
thought. 

She stopped short at length, her face full of 
deep resolution. 

“ I must and will do it,” she said. “ It is the 
only course. I must see him, and dare not 
brin^ him here.” 

O 

The next moment she had rung the bell with 
a strong pull, that quickly brought the maid- 
servant in response. 

“Tell the coachman to get my carriage ready 
at once,” she ordered, in a sharp, short tone. 
“ Let him be at the door in fifteen minutes. 
Then bring me my cloak and bonnet.” 

During the absence of the maid she made 
some changes in her dress to adapt it for the 
street. And all was done with an impatience 
and eager haste that bespoke her agitation of 
mind. 


A FATE WOMAN'S TROUBLE. 


45 


Within the time given she was in her car- 
riage, and had given her order to the coachman, 
who drove rapidly onward. 

A half-hour of a somewhat winding course, 
and then the coachman drew up before a store 
in one of the main shopping thoroughfares of 
the city. 

He sprang from his seat and opened the car- 
riage door. 

Mrs. Gordon left the carriage and entered 
the store, in which she remained some ten 
minutes. 

Then she reappeared with a small package 
in her hand, which she threw into the carriage. 

“ Wait here for me, Joseph,” she said. “ I 
have another errand, but will walk.” 

She tripped onward with a light step, dozens 
of eyes fixed on the face of one who was known 
as the most beautiful woman in Washington, 
i As if weary of this scrutiny she let fall a 
thick vail that concealed her face. The gray 
cloth cloak which she wore, was also drawn 
closely around her, covering her rich dress. 

As she appeared now, no one would have rec- 
ognized in that plainly dressed figure the rich 
and showy Mrs. Gordon. 

Leaving the business avenue, she entered a 
quiet side street that led from it. 


46 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


It is not necessary to follow her movements 
step by step. It will suffice to say that in five 
minutes afterwards she was admitted to a house 
at some distance down this street. 

Immediately afterwards a gentleman for 
whom she had asked entered the room in 
which she awaited him. 

It was Harry Lindsay. He stepped towards 
the vailed and cloaked woman questioningly. 

“ Whom have I the honor of addressing, 
Madame ? ” he asked. 

In an instant she had risen from her chair, 
flung open her cloak, and thrown aside her vail. 
The beautiful woman, in her rich attire, stood 
with a stern and dignified aspect before him. 

He fell a step back, and lifted his hand to his 
eyes, as if he had been dazzled by the sudden 
vision. 

Then he sprang quickly forward, with extend- 
ed hands and flushed face. 

“Mrs. Gordon !” he cried. “ Lucile ! You 
here ? Can it be possible ? ” 

“No more, Mr. Lindsay,” she coldly replied, , 
avoiding his offered hands. “ We will spare 
any enthusiasm, if you please. After what has 
passed it is uncalled for.” 

Her cold eyes and steady tone recalled the 
excited youth to his senses. She was secretly 


A FAIR WOMAN’S TROUBLE, 47 

as much agitated as himself. But no trace of 
it was suffered to appear upon her calm, severe 
face. 

“You have come here to upbraid me l” he 
exclaimed. “ Say what you will, Mrs. Gordon. 
I deserve it all, and more. You cannot chastise 
me for my folly more bitterly than I have chas- 
tised myself. Tell me that I was a fool — a 
lunatic — I acknowledge it all in advance.” 

“You were worse than that,” she steadily 
replied, though her lips trembled despite her- 
self. “You were cruelly selfish. You consider- 
ed yourself only. You failed to consider me. 
You cared not in what a terrible dilemma you 
might place me.” 

He stood before her, his burning eyes de- 
vouring her countenance with a passion he could 
not repress. 

“ I know it all!” he cried. “ I admit it all. 

I was mad with love. I could not live longer 
without a word from you. I was — ” 

“ No more, sir. I cannot listen to such lan- 
guage. You seem to forget that I am a married 
woman. And you insult me by hinting that I 
could listen to solicitations that are simply crim- 
inal.” 

She fell into the chair behind her, the re- 
pressed excitement now breaking into her face, 


48 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


while she dashed away the tears that flushed 
her eyes. 

Indignant as she was, it was evident that this 
handsome youth was not indifferent to the 
beautiful woman before him. Yet it was equally 
evident that she would have died rather than 
prove false to her duty to her husband, or admit 
the existence of any such feeling. 

“ Good Heavens, Lucile! ” he cried distract- 
edly. “ What have I said, what have I done, 
to drive you to tears ? I would kill myself 
rather than force a drop in pain from those 
beautiful eyes.” 

She recovered her composure after a moment 
and a smile came to her lips. 

“ I am not suffering,” she replied- “ But I 
could not help a momentary agitation- It is 
not this I came here for, and I am wasting time. 
The mischief is done, and cannot be undone by 
recrimination. You received my note ? You 
know the painful position in which your wild 
act has placed me ? ” 

“ I know it too well. I would have shot my- 
self, but that I felt it necessary to live to undo 
the work I have done. That cunning fox-hound 
Julius Martindale, has stolen the letter? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ And threatens to use it as a whip over 


A FAIR WOMAN'S TROUBLE. 49 

you, to force you to work in his interests ? ” 

“ He has done more than to threaten. He 
has already used it for this purpose ! I have 
been forced to promise General Gordon’s in- 
fluence in securing him the position of Com- 
missioner of Customs.” 

“ But that is not much ! ” 

“ That is but the beginning. No one can tell 
to what that man aspires, or for what deep 
ends he designs to use me.” 

“ What shall I do ? Shall I shoot the dog ? ” 
cried Harry, leaping up in a flame of rage. 
“ But say the word, and I will kill him as I 
would a rat ! ” 

“ And be hung for your pains. No, no, not 
that.” Her eyes grew softer as they rested on 
the handsome face of the excited youth. 

“What then? Something must be done; 
and that quickly. You cannot and shall not 
remain in his power.” 

He started forward, and paced the room 
back and forth in high excitement. 

“ Defy him, Lucile- Do not let him use you 
as a tool. Defy him. Tell the truth to your 
husband- He may be angry. But what is his 
momentary anger to the slow torture of this 
dog’s solicitations ? ” 

“ I dare not do so ! ” 

4 


50 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


“ Why ? ” 

“ Because — because you do not know my 
husband. He is the most jealous of men. If 
he should know of the existence of that letter 
his anger would be frightful- ,> 

“ It would not kill you. And he could not 
keep it up forever.” 

t; But — ” she hesitatingly began. “ But — it 
would kill you. He would murder you in his 
passionate rage.” 

“ Kill me ? And it is me of whom you are 
thinking, instead of yourself? ” cried this unfort- 
unate youth, in a tone of rapture, as he gazed 
eagerly into the face before him, that was 
tinged with an involuntary blush. 

“ This is cruel in you, Harry Lindsay,” she 
replied, in a low, intense tone- “ You but make 
the burden you have laid upon me heavier to 
bear.” 

“ Forgive me, Lucile,” he answered con- 
tritely. “ But hear me. If that is the source 
of your dread, do not fear for me. General 
Gordon will not harm me. I am quite able to 
take care of myself. And as for you, he shall 
not harm you, while I live.” 

“ You talk at random,” she said angrily. 
“You do not know him, I say. You are but a 
boy as yet. He is a proud, stern man, with a 


A FAIR WOMAN’S TROUBLE. 5i 

volcano of passion under his calm exterior. 
Something else must be done. To reveal to 
him the existence of that letter would lead to 
your death and my disgrace. He would force 
it from the hands of the thief. He would read 
it with eyes blinded with jealousy. And you 
forget how idly and madly you wrote. You 
forget that you hinted at an understanding be- 
tween you and myself which never existed. You 
forget how terribly your insane epistle would 
compromise me in the eyes of a jealous man.” 

Lindsay listened to her impassioned words 
with a look of concern and doubt. 

“ Yet something must be done,” he said. 
“ What can I do to undo my work ? What do 
you advise ? ” 

“ You must do as I advised you in my note. 
He stole the letter from me. You must steal 
if from him.” 

“ By Jove, I will ! I will tear it from his vile 
carcass ! ” 

“ You will not find it on him. He is no fool, 
if he is a villain. That letter has been cun- 
ningly hidden. It will take the utmost shrewd- 
ness to recover it.” 

“ There are some very cunning detectives in 
Washington. Sharp as Julius Martindale is, I 
fancy he can be matched.” 


52 


TlTE STOLEN LETTER. 


“ That may be. Yet the man who is hiding 
has always the advantage of the man who is 
seeking.” 

“ I will employ a dozen of the best. I will 
spare no money. I will ” 

He stopped suddenly, with a face full of con- 
fusion. 

“ What is the matter ? ” she asked in quick 
concern. # 

“ I speak of sparing no money when I have 
no money. I was robbed last night of nearly 
my last penny. I was just about to engage a 
detective in my own behalf.” 

“ Don’t stop a moment for that. I will 
provide all necessary money. That letter must 
be regained if it costs a million. Here is money.” 
She flung a full purse on the table. “ Send 
me word by a trusty agent when you need 
more.” 

“ I will need no more,” he replied with a smile 
of confidence. “ And this shall be repaid. You 
shall not pay for the mending of my fault.” 

“ That is very well, but no hesitation must be 
felt now. This matter is too important for any 
scruples of pride to interfere- If money is need- 
ed it must be provided.” 

She rose as she spoke and adjusted her cloak. 

“I must go now,” she said, turning to him 


A FAIR WOMAN'S TROUBLE 


53 


with a look of deeper meaning than she intended. 
“ I trust to you to redeem your fault.” 

“ It shall be redeemed —but its cause not 
forgotten,” he cried, catching her hand in his 
eager clasp, and gazing deeply into her soft eyes. 

The next moment she was gone. But she 
had left a happy man behind her. 


54 


THE STOLEN LETTER . 


CHAPTER V. 

A CONFAB WITH A DETECTIVE. 

Into a dark, gloomy building of the legal 
district of Washington, that bore the somber 
aspect of a prison, two men had just entered. 

They made their way along the narrow hall, 
and up the dark stairway, with some growls of 
dissatisfaction. 

“ What in the world do they build such dun- 
geons as this for ? ” exclaimed one. “ The sun- 
light would be afraid to creep into this hole.” 

“ It would be scared out again if it did,” re- 
joined the other. 

“ Here we are, No. 15, third floor,’’ said the 
first speaker, as he pointed to a name-plate on 
the door before him, which could be just read 
in the shadowy hall. 

It bore the following words : 

Frank Sharp, Private Detective. 

“ That is our man,” answered the other, 
knocking at the door, 


A CONFAB WITH A DETECTIVE. 


55 


“ Come in/’ cried a voice from the room 
within. 

They opened the door and entered- 

The room in which they found themselves 
was a square apartment, of good size, and much 
better lighted than the passage outside. 

It was furnished as an office, and at a table 
in its centre sat a small-sized man, of some 
thirty years of age, with a steady, quiet, but 
keenly intelligent face. 

He lifted his eyes from his writing, and 
motioned his visitors to chairs. 

Excuse me for one moment, gentlemen.” 

He continued to write rapidly for a minute 
or two more. Then he folded and directed a 
letter, threw his pen aside, and pushed back his 
chair. 

“ I am at your service.’ What can I do for 
you ? ” 

“ We are in search of a detective, and have 
been directed to you, as the best man in 
America for the work we have in hand.” 

The detective smiled. 

“ That depends on the character of the work,” 
he said- 

“ That I will tell you. But first let me in- 
troduce myself, and my friend. My name 
is- ” 


56 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


“ Mr. Harry Lindsay. And your friend is 
Mr. William Benton,” interrupted the detective. 

“ Ah ! you know us then ? ” 

“ That is no proof of extra smartness. To 
know everybody is easier than to know every- 
thing. Yet a detective is expected to have no 
limit to his knowledge-” 

“ I doubt if you* know our business with you 
to-day,” broke in Will. 

“ Don’t be too sure of that, my dear sir,” 
laughed the detective. “ Suppose I draw you 
a picture, which I think you will recognize. 
Two nights ago there was some high play at 
the Casino, a noted gambling resort of our high- 
toned statesmen- One young gentleman risked 
his money at rouge-et-noir rather recklessly, in 
spite of the efforts of a friend to restrain him.” 

The visitors opened their eyes at this be- 
ginning. 

“ Yet the goddess Fortune favored the reck- 
less man. fie bet against ten thousand 
chances, and won. He broke the bank, and 
pocketed over a hundred and fifty thousand 
dollars in winnings-” 

“ You were there, then ” exclaimed Will. 

“ I had on my ten-league spectacles,” laughed 
the detective. “ What next ? The gamester 
thrust his winnings very carelessly into his 


A CONFAB WITH A DETECTIVE. 57 

pocket, and the two friends left the gambling 
hall together, without observing that they were 
followed by two men.” 

“ Two men ? ” questioned Harry. “ I only 
saw one.” 

“ That was the one who stumbled against 
you in the anteroom, and neatly slipped from 
your pocket the roll of notes which you had so 
carelessly thrust into it. The second fellow, 
finding that he was not needed, turned back 
into the Casino, while his comrade walked away 
with the stolen money.” 

“ I saw the man who turned back into the 
Casino,” ejaculated Will. “But I did not 
dream that he was connected with the affair.” 

“ That was because you did not wear my ten- 
league spectacles. But I have not finished my 
picture. Shall I go on ? ” 

“ Certainly,” answered Harry. “ It is highly 
interesting.” 

“ The successful thief plunged into the street, 
passed through the line of carriages, and wound 
through a mile or two of the darkest streets he 
could find, watching with a hawk’s eyes lest he 
should be followed. But he saw not even a 
shadow behind him. 

“ Then he entered one of the worst districts 
of the East end, and made his way for a mil§ 


58 


THE STOLEN LETTER . 


more through the mob of drunken savages of 
that region. Finally he stopped at a certain 
house, brought a woman to the door by his 
knock, and gave his valuable spoils into her 
hands for safe keeping.” 

“ You must be a wizard if you know all this,” 
cried Harry, excitedly. “ Get me that package 
of money, and five thousand dollars of it are 
yours for your trouble.” 

“ Then you recognize the picture ? ” smiled 
the detective. 

“ The first half of it, at least. The last half 
we must take your word for.” 

“ Not at all,” answered Mr- Sharp, with a 
meaning look. “ I can back up my story with 
substantial proof.” He unlocked a drawer of 
the table as he spoke, and thrust his hand into 
it. “ You owe me five thousand dollars, Mr. 
Lindsay.” 

His hand was withdrawn, and he laid a pack- 
age, wrapped up in newspaper, before the 
astonished pair. 

“ I fancy you will find there your lost cash,” 
he quietly affirmed. 

“ The deuce ! ” cried Will. “ You don’t mean 
to say that you have already tracked this thief, 
and recovered the money, and that before we 
told soul of its loss,” 


A CONFAB WITH A DETECTIVE. 59 

“ It is a detective’s business to know things 
by intuition,” answered Mr. Sharp, “and not to 
wait for orders, when work offers. Will you 
admit now that I have proved my words, and 
knew in advance your business with me to- 
day ? ” 

“ No,” answered Harry. 

The detective looked at him in surprise. 

“ Was it not the recovery of that money?” 

“ That is but the smallest half of it.” 

“ Aha ! then there is something of import- 
ance in the wind? But I have already said that 
no one can be expected to know everything.” 

Yet Mr. Sharp looked a little taken aback. 
He had fired his shot, and missed half his 
game. 

“ By Jove, I see through it now,” exclaimed 
Will. “ There was a man of your figure lean- 
ing against the door of the room where the 
robbery took place. It was you, I recognize 
you now. You followed the thief and recovered 
the money.” 

The detective answered with a quiet smile- 

“ I have not opened that package to examine 
its contents,” he said- “ That was your busi- 
ness, not mine- But if I might venture a pre- 
diction I fancy you will find your hundred and 
sixty thousand dollars there, to the penny.” 


60 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


“ By heaven,” cried Harry, excitedly, “ you 
are the man for my work! Five thousand 
dollars of this money is yours. And I am 
good for twenty-five thousand more if you can 
put my other job through as successfully.” 

He threw the valuable package carelessly in * 
his lap, without opening it. 

The detective looked up with strong interest 

“ Then you have work cut out for me that 
you value at five times one hundred and sixty 
thousand dollars. That is the kind of work 
I want. I would sooner take a job of that kind 
for a song than a petty job for a fortune.” 

His eyes sparkled with expectation as he 
twisted his chair round the table, drew paper 
and pen to his hand, and prepared to take notes 
of the important business offered him. 

The two friends drew up to the table. 

“ Are we fully secret here?” asked Harry. 

“ Is there any danger of ears or eyes on our 
business ? ” 

“ None whatever. You can speak freely.” 

“ The story I have to tell you is but a short 
one, but it is of the greatest importance. There 
are persons implicated, however, whose names 
cannot be revealed, even to you. I can only 
tell you what is necessary for your task.” 

“ Very well Proceed ” answered the detective. 


A CONFAB mm A DETECTIVE. 61 

“ A letter has been stolen from a lady of the 
highest social standing in Washington. So far 
as she is concerned there is no actual harm in 
the letter itself. But if it should fall into the 
hands of her husband it would compromise 
her fearfully. That letter must be recov- 
ered.” 

The detective looked at him with a question- 
ing glance. 

“ If it be not destroyed ? ” 

“ There is no hope of that. It is of too much 
value to the thief. He is holding it over the 
lady as a whip, to force her to work in his in- 
terest. She has high influence in official circles 
and is being forced to use this influence in favor 
of the thief, under threat of his placing the dan- 
gerous letter in her husband’s hands.” 

Mr. Sharp took some hasty notes of the con- 
versation. 

“ This is an interesting matter,” he said. 
“ The job you give me may be an easy one or 
it may be very difficult- That depends largely 
on the character of the thief. You do right to 
conceal the lady’s name- But it is necessary 
that I should know the thief. That is not one 
of your secrets ? ” 

“ Certainly not. Yet you have no common 
man to deal with. The letter was stolen by 


62 the stolen letteii. 

Julius Martindale, a confidential clerk in the 
Department of State.” 

Mr. Sharp sat back in his chair, and fixed his 
eyes with a surprised look on the speaker. 

“ Martindale ! The shrewdest man in Wash- 
ington !” he exclaimed. “ You are right. The 
task you give me will be no trifle. I cannot 
touch it unless I know everything. I must 
make no false moves in playing with such an 
antagonist.” 

“ Everything that I know, except the lady’s 
name,” answered Harry. 

“ That may not be necessary,” rejoined the 
detective, with a look that had more in it than 
it revealed- 

It was in vain to seek to keep the lady’s 
name secret from him. He would soon know 
it- That was what his look v meant. 

The conversation continued at some length, 
Harry answering the shrewdly put questions of 
Mr. Sharp. 

“ That will do,” he said at length. “ I have 
my case before me now. If I recover that letter 
I shall have earned my money, Mr. Lindsay.” 

“ That reminds me that I owe you five thou- 
sand dollars as it is,” rejoined Harry, picking 
up the package that lay in his lap. 

“ One word more,” remarked Will. “ Have 


A CONFAB WITH A DETECTIVE. 63 

you formed any theory as to the disposition of 
the letter, Mr. Sharp ? ” 

“ I am satisfied that it is in existence, that it 
is in the city, and that it is where Martindale 
can lay his hand on it at an hour’s notice. He 
is playing with edged tools, and must keep that 
letter where he can use it at once, if necessary. 
He is as bold as he is cunning. He will not 
hesitate to use his power if the lady rebels 
against his demands.” 

“ Then your field of search is narrowed 
down-” 

“ I hope to find it on his person, or in his 
house. But everything has to be done with the 
secrecy of the grave- If he should discover 
that a search is being made the letter will van- 
ish. It is a most difficult and delicate task, 
with a man like him.” 

“ I have confidence in your ability after your 
wonderful skill in recovering this stolen money,” 
remarked Harry. “ And here is the fee I prom- 
ised for this job ” 

He finished unfolding the package as he 
spoke. But his eyes opened wide with astonish- 
ment when, instead of the expected cash, only 
a parcel of folded papers met his eyes. He 
looked up to the equally astounded detective. 

“ What does this mean ?” he cried. 


84 


THE STOLEN LETTER, 


Mr. Sharp sprang to his feet, with an excla- 
mation of chagrin and astonishment. 

“ By all that’s good. I have been fooled ! ” 
he cried- “ The fellow has twigged me on his 
track, and left this as a gull’s bite ! And the 
other man has the money ! I thought I was 
playing a sharp game; by the Lord Harry they 
have dished me ! ” 

“ It looks like it,” said Will, dryly. 

“ I fancy they will find they have the wrong 
pig by the ears,” continued the detective, with 
a look of confidence as he recovered his com- 
posure. “ Who was the thief’s confederate ? 
That is the question now. I have one of them 
under my thumb- I must lay for the other. 
You shall have your money back, Mr- Lindsay.” 

“ I hope so,” remarked Harry, dubiously. 
“ But had you not better examine those papers, 
Mr. Sharp ? They have a' highly respectable 
look. You may be mistaken in their char- 
acter.” 

He threw the package, which contained three 
or four official-looking documents, on the table. 

Mr. Sharp opened it, and quickly ran his eye 
over the first of the papers- A sudden look of 
interest came into his eyes. He snatched up a 
second, opened it hastily, and read its head- 
lines. A whistle of astonishment came from 


A CONFAB WITH A DETECTIVE. 


65 


his lips ; his face took on a look of complete 
bewilderment. 

“ By all that’s good, here’s rich sport ! How 
did these documents fall into that fellow’s 
hands ?” 

“ What are they ? ” asked the two friends 
eagerly. 

“ Documents worth more than their weight 
in gold. This is a highly important state paper, 
the draft of a secret commercial treaty between 
the United States and Russia. It has been 
stolen from the Record Room of the Depart- 
ment of State; there will be the very old Nick to 
pay if it is missed.” 

They gazed at one another with staring eyes. 
Here was a matter of life and death. 

5 


66 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


CHAPTER VI. 

A STREET MASQUERADE. 

“ It never rains but it pours,” declared to him- 
self the detective, as he lounged back in his 
office chair, and looked into the vacancy before 

him. 

“ Two hours ago I was out of work. My last 
job was wound up, and I was open for a holi- 
day. I was debating whether to run up to 
Long Branch or go to the Adirondacks for a 
week’s shooting. 

“ That little point’s settled now. Here’s 
work crowding in by the pailful. And none of 
your petty pickpocket jobs, but work for a mas- 
ter of the profession. The man who gets the 
best of Julius Martindale in a game of wits will 
befit to play at dice with the devil himself. 

“Yet I am in for it- They that never try 
never win. And thirty thousand dollars is not 
to be picked up at every back gate-” 

He lit a cigar, leaned further back in his 


A STREET MASQUERADE, 67 

chair, and fell into a deep fit of reflection, as 
the fragrant smoke slowly curled up to the 
ceiling. 

“There are three items to be considered,” he 
resumed. “ And I strongly suspect that these 
items are closely connected. The stolen letter, 
the loss of Lindsay’s money, and the State doc- 
uments. 

“ It is impossible that Julius Martindale 
would take part in a pickpocket scheme. Yet 
what mean these official papers in that thief’s 
possession ? The official documents of the De- 
partment are in Martindale’s care. Who else 
could get at them ? By Jove, there’s a hard knot 
here, that will need neat picking to open. 

“ Can Martindale be mixed up with a gang 
of villains, with Tom Bruce and Slippery Joe 
as samples ? If I can track these documents 
to him he is ruined. These papers are like fire, 
they will burn every hand into which they 
fall. 

“ Yet why should he steal them? He could 
not use them, and dare not publish them. 
Have they been stolen by somebody else, for 
the purpose of getting a hold on Martindale ? 
That may be the true theory, for any one might 
as well offer the Treasury plate for sale as pri- 
vate government documents like these.” 


THE STOLEN LETTEU. 


He rose, knocking the ashes from his cigar, 
and walked the floor in a quandary. The more 
he thought the more complicated the case seem- 
ed. There was a perfect snarl before him, with 
no visible means of untangling it. 

“Yet I hold one trump card,” he considered. 
“ The possession of those papers puts Martin- 
dale in my power. They give me the whip- 
hand if I should need to put screws on that 
gentleman. 

“And I hold one loose thread in the snarl. 
Tom Bruce is my strong point in the game. I 
must put that gin-bibbing worthy under shadow 
at once. And then for Martindale, and my 
search for the stolen letter.” 

Seizing his hat and putting on his street coat, 
Mr. Sharp left the room. It was necessary to 
begin somewhere, and he had made up his mind 
where. He could make nothing of the case by 
thinking. He wanted more facts. His course 
lay towards the headquarters of the city detective 
service. He needed help in this business. Not 
that he had any idea of sharing his case with 
other detectives ; but he wanted some of the 
police spies who could be always found in that 
locality, ready for any job. And he might need 
aid in many other directions, that were dimly 
opening before him. 


A STREET MASQUERADE. 


69 


After a conference with some of the most 
skillful of these worthies, Mr. Sharp left head- 
quarters in company with one of them he had 
engaged for immediate duty. 

But it would have been difficult to recognize 
him as the spruce, quick-stepping, neatly-dressed 
Frank Sharp of an hour before. 

He was now dressed in a suit of infinite 
shabbiness. His hat looked as if it had been 
kicked through ten gutters before it descended 
on his mop of sandy hair. His face was blotched 
and wrinkled, and there was a rambling loose- 
ness in his gait, as if he had just come through 
a ten weeks’ drunk. 

The disguise was a decided success. No one 
would have taken him for anything but a booz- 
ing tramp, whose time was evenly divided be- 
tween the road, the county poor-house and the 
gin-palace. 

An artist had been at work upon his face, in 
laying out its wrinkles and whisky blotches, and 
in adding twenty years to its age. 

His companion was a tall, thin fellow, as dis- 
reputable in appearance as himself. There was 
a slinking looseness in their gait, as they made 
haste away from that locality, as if they had 
spent their lives in avoiding the police. 

“ A sweet pair of innocents we are, Jacob, my 


70 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


lad,” said Mr. Sharp approvingly, as he looked 
at his comrade, and then at himself. “ You are 
an artist in that line.” 

“ I rayther calkerlate I’m not the wust goin’,” 
answered Jake in a thick voice, and an accent 
in keeping with his appearance. 

The detective laughed. 

“ Don’t be putting on airs, my good fellow. 
Save that till we reach dangerous ground.” 

“All ground is dangerous,” answered Jake 
briefly. “ There’s ears and eyes hangin’ round 
everywhere- I allers lives up to my characters 
from the start-out.” 

Their course continued until they had reach- 
ed the locality to which Mr. Sharp had recently 
tracked his thievish prey. v 

Here the two sorry looking fellows were in 
their true element. Dozens of others as disrep- 
utable as themselves wandered around, mainly 
employed not in looking for work or a meal, 
but for an opening to imbibe. 

Here the walk of the disguised confederates 
became a tipsy swagger, and their talk that of 
two rum-soaked vagrants who were spoiling for 
a drink. 

They passed through the street in which 
the detective had created such a sensation on 
his former visit. The house was tight closed, 


A STREET MASQUERADE. 


71 


and no sign of the loud-tongued woman was 
visible. 

“ Here resides Slippery Joe, one of the men 
with whom you may have business,” said Mr. 
Sharp, in a low tone. “ But we must seek 
our game at this hour in their favorite rum 
shops.” 

The street which they next entered was 
brimful of life. It was a business avenue, of a 
not very attractive kind. Stores, not of second- 
hand, but rather of fourth or fifth-hand cloth- 
ing, furniture, etc., embellished both sides of 
the filth-laden street. Restaurants, garnished 
with cold bits, the refuse of the more respect- 
able localities, many of them begged at area 
doors and sold to these sorry establishments, 
appeared here and there. 

Pawnshops, where pennies were lent on rags, 
were not wanting. And establishments for the 
retailing of liquid poison were there in fair 
abundance. 

These latter were the most showy and the 
best patronized of the many business concerns 
of the street. 

They made a great pretense to smartness, 
and with glaring signs, bright lights, and much 
display of flashing glass, sought to draw cus- 
tomers into their perilous maws. 


THE STOLEN LETTER . 


It was the splendor of ruin which they held 
out as a trap to the dissolute and the unwary. 

“ Yere’s the boozin’ ken we’se arter,” spoke 
the detective, pointing to a sign on one of these 
establishments: 

“ Tony Blake.” 

Imported Wines and Whiskies. 

“ I’m just as dry as a squeezed sponge on a 
red-hot stove,” rejoined the spy. “ Le’ss likker.” 

Arm in arm they entered the saloon, with the 
stagger of half tipsiness. 

It was a large square room, with a flaring 
show of crystal behind the long bar, before 
which stood a group of customers, blear-eyed, 
ragged, and bloated with rum. 

A half-dozen tables on the other side of the 
room offered some pretense of respectability. 

One only of these was occupied, and that by 
two ill-favored fellows who were talking loudly 
over a pot of beer. 

Jake’s eyes sought his employer’s face, but 
the latter gave a hardly perceptible shake of 
the head. 

Calling for whisky they received a full glass 
each of some high-colored decoction. 

The detective looked at it in dismay. Was 
he expected to imbibe this half pint of mystery? 


A STREET MASQUERADE. 


73 


He held it up for a moment, as if admiring its 
color. 

“ Calkerlate we’ll anchor, landlord- Been 
browzing round, we has, more nor less.” 

“ Plank down the ready first. Ain’t no free 
blows in this shop,” rejoined the surly landlord. 

Taking the hint Mr. Sharp paid for the liquor 
with a great reaching for the few pennies he 
finally brought up. 

“ Ain’t strapped yet, nary time,” he declared, 
as he tacked on a sailor’s course towards one of 
the tables. 

Here the two seeming tipsy cronies sat and 
talked, with a pretense of sipping their liquor, 
most of which went on the floor- 

A half hour passed, and the bottoms of the 
glasses were visible- 

“ No returns,” queried Jake, looking his em- 
ployer in the eye- 

“ Guess we’d best toddle on, — or stay- Here’s 
meat for our gridiron.” 

A long, slim, ugly-faced fellow had just en- 
tered the saloon, and glided up to the bar with 
something of stealthiness in his step. 

He was much better dressed than the other 
customers present, and looked like a man of 
different tone- 

Yet there was an evil bearing about the fel- 


74 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


low, and an active wariness in the suspicious 
glances of his half-closed eyes. 

“ What’ll yer take, Joe ? ” 

“ Nix. Ain’t dry,” answered the new custo- 
mer. “ How’s the wind? Tom been around? ” 

“ No.” / 

“ Reckon I’ll wait then. It’s near about his 
droppin’-in time.” 

The fellow seated himself at the table, and 
drew a newspaper from his pocket. 

A wink passed between the disguised con- 
federates. Take pounded with his fists on the 
table. 

“ What’s wanted ? ” queried the landlord. 

“ Jist drop over yere, an’ fill up these flowin’ 
bowls agin, old rooster. Reckon we ain’t out 
o’ shiners yit.” 

The new customer let fall his paper, and 
fixed his eyes with a steady look on the brace 
of ill-dressed strangers. He seemed to be 
quickly satisfied as to their character. 

“ Dead beats,” he muttered, as he resumed 
his reading. 

Another half-hour passed, during which the * 
brace of spies had filled their glasses twice 
more, and had the floor all in a puddle with 
spilled whisky. From the thickness of their 
tongues they seemed to be growing more tipsy. 


A STREET MASQUERADE. 75 

At the end of this time another person en- 
tered the room. Mr. Sharp apparently did not 
see him. He raised his glass with an unsteady 
hand, and seemed busy admiring its contents. 

Yet his foot touched that of his comrade 
under the table. Jake at this signal, let his 
head fall with a drunken lurch on his arm. He 
seemed too full to hold himself erect. 

The man opposite them dropped his news- 
paper and rose in his stealthy manner to his 
feet. 

“ Glad to see you,” he said. “ Been waiting.” 

“ Dry?” 

“ No.” 

“ Let’s wet the bar anyhow.” 

The two men drank, and then walked to- 
gether from the saloon. 

During this colloquy the spies had been oc- 
cupied in drunken blather, utterly senseless in 
character. 

Yet the two men had no sooner passed 
through the door than the detective rose un- 
steadily to his feet, and staggered towards the 
portal. 

“What yer hangin’ there fur, old boozer? 
Ain’t goin’ ter take lodgins ? ” 

“Reckon not,” answered Jake. “Guess 
we’d best navergate.” 


76 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


A moment found them outside. 

“ The second fellow is Tom Bruce. The 
first is Slippery Joe,” whispered the detective, 
“ There’s something in the wind- Our game is 
opening.” 


new chestnuts in the fire. 


77 


CHAPTER VII. 

NEW CHESTNUTS IN THE FIRE. 

The brace of villainous confederates made 
their way with some rapidity through the crowd- 
ed street, shoving aside its slouching inmates 
with little ceremony, and calling forth more 
than one savage growl or threatening oath. 

Heedless of this they pushed onward. They 
were evidently too well known to dread re- 
sistance. 

Yet the characters of the two men were 
plainly shown in their manner. Slippery Joe 
glided around obstacles with the stealthy tread 
of an Indian. Tom Bruce walked straight on, 
and shouldered them rudely from his path. 

He was a man of very different mould from 
his companion. There was about him the bold 
and resolute look of one who is capable of dar- 
ing enterprises. His face had none of the hang- 
dog expression of Slippery Joe, and was not 
lacking in rough good looks. 


78 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


Yet he was evidently wary and wide-awake, 
and a thorough adept in his dangerous busi- 
ness. 

Just here, however, the brace of villains did 
not dread danger. They did not dream of the 
pair of sorry-looking reprobates, who were' fol- 
lowing them at no great distance behind. 

“ So you’ve twigged your man ? ” queried Joe, 
with a look of admiration at his companion. 

“ Yes.” 

“ You don’t mind sayin’ who ? ” 

“ It ain’t no slouch, now, you bet.” 

“ Didn’t s’pose as how it was.” 

“ I found out who was on at the Casino that 
night.’" 

“ And who was it ? ” 

“ Frank Sharp, the smartest fluke on the 
force.” 

Joe gave a whistle of surprise. 

“ The Little Joker ? ” 

“ Nary a less.” 

“ Holy Moses, but he’s a honey to handle ! 
So he’s the coon as snatched them dokyments. 
Don’t b’lieve the pair on us ’ll be any match 
for him.” 

“ Won’t, eh! Ain't goin’ to take water, are 
you?” 

“ Do my prettiest,” said Joe, in a half scared 


NEW CHESTNUTS IN THE EIRE. 79 

tone* “ But the Joker’s wuss nor a wild-cat to 
handle.” 

“ Now that’s all flat pancakes. I kin pick 
out a dozen lads as could discount him. Jist 
you carry out the plan I’ve laid down, and you 
kin snap your fingers at Mr. Sharp. And five 
hundred dollars ain’t nothin’ to be sneezed 
at.” 

“ Reckon’ it ain’t!” cried Joe in enthusiasm. 
“ Never handled more nor half it, in one pile, 
in my born days. Say what’s to be did, and 
I’m yer hoss. Give me somethin’ in my line 
and you bet I’ll do the Joker.” 

“ I know your style, Joe. I didn’t pick you 
out blind. Now shut your tater trap and. open 
your ears, and I’ll let you inter the biz.” 

They had by this time passed through the 
thickest of the throng, and the most of this 
conversation had taken place in a less densely 
peopled street. As they continued to talk they 
gradually left that locality behind them, and 
reached a range of streets poorly lighted, and 
nearly deserted at that hour. 

Their talk proved so interesting as to have 
one important effect. It reduced their wariness. 
Not dreaming of pursuit they walked on with- 
out taking the trouble to look behind them. 


BO 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


Yet if they had looked they would have seen 
nothing suspicious- 

The two staggering, boozy, ragged worthies, 
who had kept close behind them in the crowded 
and disreputable quarters just left, had dis- 
appeared. 

No trace of them was anywhere visible, and 
it seemed as if they had given up the chase. 

Just now there were only two persons going 
the same way with the pair of pickpockets. 

One of these looked like a merchant’s clerk, 
on his way home after being detained late at 
the office. 

The second, who was on the opposite side of 
the street, was tall and slender. He might have 
passed for a respectable mechanic, out for an 
evening’s amusement. 

These two men seemed to have no connection 
with each other, and to be paying no attention 
to the pair in advance. They were simply go- 
ing the same way and at the same pace. That 
was all. 

And yet their errand seemed somehow to 
take them through the same streets followed by 
the law-breaking couple. 

It was, in fact, the detective and his com- 
panion, and this was but an evidence of their 
skill in the art of disguise. 


NEW CHESTNUTS IN THE FIRE. 


81 


Mr, Sharp had simply slipped off his ragged 
coat and revealed a brown, well-fitting coat 
beneath. Removing his sandy wig, and deftly 
turning his cap inside out, his head gear grew 
* suddenly respectable. A damp sponge rubbed 
across his face removed his discolored blotches. 

He had been transformed, as if by magic, 
from a bloated tramp into a sober merchant’s 
clerk. 

A series of similar movements had produced 
a like effect upon Jake. 

No one could have recognized them for the 
brace of tipsy swaggerers they had appeared an 
hour before. 

But of all that was going on in their rear, 
Tom Bruce and Slippery Joe remained in blank 
ignorance. 

They walked on busily laying their plans of 
roguery without a suspicion that a pair of the 
keenest rogue-catchers in the country were on 
their track. 

Not until they had reached a locality a mile 
or two from their starting-point did they display 
any signs of wariness. 

Then they began to look around and behind 
them, with eyes sharpened by continual danger. 

Yet nothing suspicious was observable. Of 
the dozen or more men who were within sight 


82 the stolen letter. 

none seemed to pay the slightest attention to 
the confederates. 

Least of all did that slight-built personage, 
who was walking steadily by on the opposite 
side of the street, or that tall individual, who 
was looking into a shop window, appear to heed 
them. 

Yet within less than five minutes afterwards 
these two personages came together, under the 
shelter of a dark doorway. There was a look 
of surprise on the face of the slight individual. 

What is in the wind now ? ” he asked 
curiously. 

“ Can’t say,” was the answer. 

The two confederates had come to a halt be- 
fore a gloomy-looking edifice, in a nearly desert- 
ed and poorly lighted street. They were look- 
ing warily around them, and conversing in low 
tones. 

The next minute they turned and entered 
the open doorway of the building before them. 

“ What in the thunder do they want in the 
Chancery block ? My office is in that building,” 
exclaimed the surprised detective. 

“ I know it,” answered Jake, in his short man- 
ner. 

‘‘ Has that cunning rascal smelt out the rat? 


&EW CHESTNUTS IN THE FIRE 


!n> 


Has he traced the loss of his documents to me ? 
And is he here to recover them ? ” 

“ Looks like it,” rejoined Jake. 

“ Most decidedly. Let us after them. Pm 
sadly afraid their neat plan won’t work.” 

“ Rather calculate not,” grinned Jake- 

They entered the building, in the rear of the 
villainous pair. 

It was dark within, and seemed deserted. 
But Mr. Sharp knew it thoroughly, and walked 
forward without hesitation. 

“ Where is the janitor ? ” he asked. 

“ He has our gentlemen in tow,” remarked 
Jake. “ I hear voices up-stairs, and there is a 
light.” 

“ That’s a fact. They are daring rascals, 
at any rate. Remain here, Jake. I will follow 
them alone.” 

Jake stood obediently in the shadowy hall, 
while his employer disappeared up the gloomy 
stairway. 

Several minutes passed. All was silent 
about the great dark edifice. There was some- 
thing very depressing in the situation. But 
fake was a man without feeling or sentiment. 
Nothing could depress or elevate him- 

At the end of this interval Mr. Sharp reap- 
peared. 


$4 THE STOLEN LETTEH. 

“ I can’t make out just what is going on up 
there,” he remarked. The janitor has left 
them. Here he comes. I will get it from 
him.” 

The light of a lamp or candle appeared at 
the head of the stairs accompanied by the 
sound of a heavy footstep, and a growl of dis- 
satisfaction- 

“ Confounded queer time for a new renter to 
put in,” he grumbled. “ And a lodger at that. 
— Who's there ? — Oh, it’s you, Mr. Sharp ? ” 

“ Yes. What are you saying about lodg- 
ers ? ” 

“ Just been showing one to his room. No 42. 
Same corridor as yours. Was here this after- 
noon and rented, and had a cot put in for 
lodging. Isn’t often our renters sleep in their 
rooms, but there’s no rule to hinder.” 

“ Weren’t there two? ” 

“ One’s only staying to see his friend com- 
fortable- He’ll be down and away in a minute.” 

“ I don’t know that it is any affair of mine,” 
remarked the detective, ascending the stairs. 

At a sign Jake came up after him. 

They reached the floor on which the detec- 
tive’s room was situated- Here they drew back 
into a dark side corridor. 

“We shall have to divide forces here, whis- 


NEW CHESTNUTS IN THE FIRE . 


85 


pered the detective. “ It will not do to lose 
sight of either of these gentlemen. If Tom 
Bruce leaves I will follow him. If Slippery Joe 
goes out he is your meat. You understand.” 

“ Yes. — Hush! a door is opening.” 

They heard some words in a low tone, and 
then footsteps came along the hall. From 
where they stood they could just distinguish 
the outlines of a shadowy form. 

But the steady, erect figure was very different 
from that of Slippery Joe. 

“It is my man,” whispered the detective. 
“ That settles our game. You will stay here 
Take the key of my room. You can be ready 
to receive visitors if any call.” 

“All right,” said Jake grimly. 

“ I must find what other chestnuts our friends 
have in the fire.” 

The next moment he was noiselessly descend- 
ing the stairs, on the track of the man who was 
dimly visible in advance. 

Again the process which we have just de- 
scribed began. Through street after street 
walked the unconscious villain in advance. 
Through street after street, like his shadow, 
glided the detective scout in his rear. 

A couple dozen squares of this process brought 
them to a very different part of the city. They 


86 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


were now in the fashionable quarter. Brilliant 
gas-lights here gave the wide streets almost 
the lustre of daylight. Carriages rolled to 
and fro on the well-paved avenue. A throng 
of gay pleasure-seekers filled the sidewalks. 

There was no longer any need for the detec- 
tive to be wary. Pursuit would not be sus- 
pected here- 

Bruce walked on with a sturdy step, quite as 
ready to elbow the people here as those of the 
quarter he had lately left. He was a bold 
rogue, who knew his rights in the streets. 

He left this avenue after a while and entered 
a quieter one. 

Here he stopped in front of a modest house, 
ascended the flight of steps, and rung the bell 
with a pull of assurance. 

The door was quickly opened by a servant, 
whose eyes ran over the costume and appearance 
of the visitor with a supercilious look. 

“ Is Mr. Morton in ? ” 

“ Can’t answer,” was the bluff reply- “ Don't 
believe he’ll be in to you.” 

“You don’t, eh?” remarked Bruce, with a 
sneer. “ Well, as I happen to have an engage- 
ment with the gentleman, I do. Maybe you’d 
best show me in.” 

The servant looked in doubt at this question- 
able visitor. 


NEW CHESTNUTS IN THE FIRE. 


87 


“ See here, Dennis, I don’t calculate to dance 
on this door-step all night to please you. Here 
is my card. Hand it to your master.” 

The servant disappeared, leaving the visitor 
on the step- He returned after several minutes, 
with a change of manner. 

“ Sorry to keep you,” he said. “ But didn’t 
know as you were an acquaintance of Mr. 
Morton. Walk in, sir. Walk in.” 

The detective, who had not missed a word of 
this talk stood in a quandary. 

“ Morton ? who is Morton ? ” he cogitated, 
“ Have I another end of the thread here ? There 
is an interesting understanding between Mr. 
Morton and Mr- Bruce, that is evident.” 


88 


THE STOLEN LETTER , 


CHAPTER VIII. 

DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND. 

“Morton? Yes, we have the name here. 
Several specimens of it. What Morton ? ” 

These words were spoken by a man who was 
turning over the pages of a large, leather-bound 
account book, in a prison-like room on whose 
shelves, rows of similar books were visible. 

It was the fire-proof record room of the 
Washington police service. 

“ Henry Morton,” remarked Detective Sharp, 
to whom these words were spoken. 

“ Here it is. One item only. Professional 
burglar. Sent up two years ago for cracking a 
crib down at Georgetown. Still serving time. 
Is that your man ? ” 

“ No. My man is living now in style on 
Leffingwell Terrace/’ 

“ Then we haven’t got him. Under that 
name I mean. We may have him under twenty 
others. Have you any further points ? ” 


DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND. 


89 


Detective Sharp shook his head. 

“ I know the man’s name. That is all yet. 
But I predict that you will have that name on 
your books before next Christmas. — What is 
it?” 

This was asked of a messenger who had just 
entered the room, and was looking round him 
inquiringly. 

“ I am looking for Mr. Frank Sharp, the de- 
tective.” 

“ I answer to that name. What can I do 
for you ? ” 

“ You are wanted at once, at these directions.” 

He handed the detective a slip of paper. 

An exclamation of surprise broke from the 
officer’s lips as his eyes fell upon it. 

“Julius Martindale? he exclaimed. “He 
want me? Well, well, the soup is thickening. 
Who brought this ? ” 

“ A messenger boy, who is waiting outside.” 

The detective turned on his heel and walked 
from the room. 

Work was brewing, that was sure. The game 
seemed to be playing into his hands. What 
could Martindale want? Could it have any 
possible reference to the work he had already 
in tow ? 

There was but one way to get an answer to 


90 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


this question. After a word with the messenger, 
who told him that Mr. Martindale wanted him 
without delay, Mr. Sharp left police headquarters 
and hurried to his office. 

Here he found Jake on guard- 

“ Anything turned up? ” he asked 

“ No. Slippery Joe hasn’t as much as wink- 
ed!" 

“ I think I had better remove temptation from 
that gentleman’s path ” laughed the detective, 
as he thrust the stolen documents into his 
pocket. ^ “ I may have need of these- You are 
at liberty for to-day, Jake. Your man is a night 
bird." 

Mr. Sharp made some slight changes in his 
clothing. He then hurried down stairs and 
called a cab. 

An hour afterwards he was landed in front of 
a pretentious mansion in the most aristocratic 
quarter of the city. 

His ring was answered by a colored servant, 
of elaborate dignity. The house which he en- 
tered was spacious in halls and apartments, and 
furnished expensively. 

The detective looked around him keenly, as 
he followed the servant. 

“ Martindale believes in putting his best foot 
foremost,” he said to himself, 


DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND. 91 

In a moment more he was ushered into the 
presence of the master of the house, in a large, 
library-like room, plainly but richly furnished. 

The ends of the room were occupied by book- 
cases, well filled with volumes. One side was 
adorned with a handsome tiled fire-place and 
carved mantel. Several expensive oil-paintings 
hung on the other. 

As he entered, the proprietor of the mansion 
was walking up and down the room, with a 
nervous and impatient tread, his face working 
with some secret source of trouble. 

He turned quickly on the entrance of his 
visitor. 

“ Thank you for coming so promptly,” he 
said. “ I believe I speak to Mr. Frank Sharp, 
private detective ? ” 

“ Yes, sir,” was the quiet answer. 

“ Pray be seated. I have something for your 
ear. 

The officer quietly seated himself. He had 
not taken a look around the room, and had but 
glanced at the face of his host. Yet a glance 
was enough to satisfy the quick-witted detective 
that Mr. Martindale was in trouble. 

The latter threw himself in a chair and in 
turn looked at his visitor, with a stealthy glance 
that was habitual to him. 


92 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


He was a man who lived in distrust of every- 
body and everything- 

Mr. Sharp’s eyes were fixed on the paper- 
strewn table, and his face utterly empty of ex- 
pression. It was a play of wits between two 
wide-awake men. 

“ I have been advised to apply to you,” began 
Mr. Martindale, “ as one of the best men in the 
country to take hold of a difficult and delicate 
job.” 

“ I can give you the names of better men,” 
replied the detective calmly. 

“You are modest, sir. I must trust your 
friends’ report rather than your own.” 

Mr. Sharp’s eyes met his for the first time- 

“ I am at your service,” he said. “ But you 
must not ask me to work miracles.” 

Mr. Martindale smiled. 

“ This gentlemen is too modest by half,” he 
said to himself. “ Is he playing a game ? ” 

“ Do you know who I am ? ” he asked. 

“ Mr- Julius Martindale, in the secret service 
of the Department of State, is too well known 
to need an introduction,” was the polite 
reply. 

“ You are probably aware that I am custodian 
of the highly valuable secret records of that 
office ? ” 


DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND. 


93 


“ I am,” answered Mr. Sharp, with little sur- 
prise at this remark. 

“ Then I may as well open to you at once my 
purpose in sending for you. A robbery has 
taken place in that office. Some of the most 
valuable papers have been stolen. How and 
by whom it has been done I cannot imagine, 
but their loss places me in a delicate position. 
They must be recovered, if all America has to 
be raked to its dregs.” 

Mr. Sharp fixed his steady eyes on the some^ 
what disturbed face of the speaker. He was 
as unmoved as if revelations of this importance 
were every-day matters to him- 
“ This is a secret ? ” he queried- 
“ And must remain so-” 

“ The discovery of the loss of those papers 
would ruin you ? ” 

“ It might compromise me, at any rate,” ad- 
mitted the cautious official. “ I discovered their 
loss not two hours ago, and have not been easy 
in mind since. I sent for you at once. Will 
you undertake the case ? ” 

“ At what fee ? ” asked Mr. Sharp. 

“ Five thousand dollars, if you put the papers 
into my hands within a week.” 

The detective looked at him quietly and 
coldly. He had not yet taken a single glance 


94 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


around the room. One would have said that 
he had no interest in furniture or ornament. 

“ You forget the magnitude of the task,” he 
remarked. “ I should advise you to send for a 
cheaper detective.” 

“ Five thousand dollars is no trifle/’ rejoined 
Mr. Martindale, with some surprise. 

“ You would find a thousand men to take the 
case at that figure.” 

“ But I want you.” 

“ And my lowest price is ten thousand dol- 
lars ; one half down when I name you the thief, 
the other half when I hand you the papers.” 

“You seem to have confidence in yourself, 
sir,” exclaimed Mr. Martindale. One would 
think you were ready to name the thief to-day.” 

“ I am.” 

Mr. Martindale was evidently very much 
surprised. 

“ It is only two hours since the. theft was 
discovered,” he declared. “ It is impossible 
thaf*you should know anything about it.” 

“ Do you suspect any one ? ” asked Mr. Sharp. 

“ No. I am all at sea.” 

“ Then be kind enough to name over the 
employes in the office, and any one else who 
could possibly have access to the records.” 

“ I hardly know a person who could,” was 


DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND. 


05 


the reply. “ The keys are strictly under my 
care.” 

“ And you would therefore be held responsi- 
ble for any loss ? I should have fixed my fee 
at fifteen thousand. But no matter. Give me 
the names. I will pin the thief when you come 
to him.” 

Mr. Martindale looked incredulous. He 
fixed his eyes keenly on the impassive face of 
the detective. 

“ I doubt your ability,” he said. “ But I will 
put it to the test.” 

He ran over a series of names, watching the 
detective closely as he gave them out, one by 
one- But the latter sat quietly back in his 
chair, without a word or sign- 

“ That is all,” remarked Mr. Martindale. I 
can think of no other person directly connected 
with the office.” 

“You have not named the thief yet. Who 
are indirectly connected with it ? ” 

Another series of names were given by the 
secretary. Mr. Sharp shook his head. 

“ This is folly,” cried Mr. Martindale impa- 
tiently, “ I did not send for you to be amused by 
child’s play. I cannot name all Washington 
for you to guess at.” 

“ Then I must add to your list. You have 
omitted one name.” 


96 THE stolen letter. 

“ What name is that ? ” was the quick query. 

“ Henry Morton.” 

If an explosion of gunpowder had taken 
place under Mr. Martindale’s chair, he could 
not have leaped up more suddenly. The chair 
was overturned in his haste, and he walked the 
floor excitedly back and forth, with a red face, 
and muttered exclamations. 

Mr. Sharp was decidedly surprised by the 
effect of his wx>rds. But he showed no more 
signs of it than if he had been made of wood. 

“ What do you mean ? ” cried the disturbed 
official, halting and fixing his eyes angrily on 
the detective’s face. “ What you say is folly ! 
Folly, I tell you.” 

Mr. Sharp smiled knowingly. 

“ I never move my men tiii I have studied the 
game,” he said. 

“ But my nephew ! My special favorite ! An 
innocent youth like him! What do you know 
that gives you the right to make such an accu- 
sation ? ” 

“ I know nothing. I did not know this rela- 
tionship to you. I had not heard his name 
twenty-four hours ago. And yet you owe me 
five thousand dollars.” 

“ That remains to be proved,” cried Mr. 
Martindale, with a strong effort to recover his 


DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND. 


9 1 


composure. “ You are dealing in enigmas, 
sir.” 

“ To deal in enigmas is my business,” was 
the steady reply. “ As for the innocence of this 
youth, you are sadly mistaken, Mr. Martindale. 
I do not know Henry Morton. I never set 
eyes on him. Yet I am satisfied that he is one 
of the sharpest reprobates in Washington. He 
simply must be that to deceive a man of your 
reputation for shrewdness.” 

“ An accusation is no proof,” exclaimed Mr. 
Martindale, still angry. “ I tell you still that I 
do not believe you. Prove what you have said, 
and the money is yours. Fail to do so, and by 
heavens — ” 

“ I have no idea of failing,” remarked the un- 
moved detective. “ If you will do as I say, my 
words shall be proved, and the papers returned 
to you.” 

“ What do you propose ? ” 

“ Send your nephew to me here alone. I 
will remain here and wait till he comes. But 
don't give him a hint of your object, or of my 
profession. If you do, he will be off to Canada 
within two hours.” 

“ What shall I tell him to overcome the sus- 
picions of the keen rogue you would make him 
out to be ? ” 


7 


98 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


Send for him as from yourself. Name any 
business that is likely to bring him here with- 
out delay. But be careful to leave the house 
yourself. I must deal with him alone. Direct 
your servants to send him to you in the 
library.” 

“ Very well. It shall be done,” answered Mr. 
Martindale briefly. “ I would not, even to re- 
cover those papers, have what you hint prove 
true. But you shall have your opportunity. 

He walked from the library leaving the de- 
tective alone there. He was more confounded 
by what had passed than he had ever been be- 
fore in his life. 

Yet Julius Martindale was too used to trickery 
not to suspect some double dealing behind all 

this. 

He muttered to himself as he walked away. 

“ That man’s manner was not natural,” he 
said. “ He studiously avoided taking an ob- 
servation of the room. An ordinary man, with- 
out a grain of curiosity, would scarcely have kept 
his eyes so moveless. In a detective it is out of 
reason. He is playing a part, and has over- 
played it. His lack of interest is assumed, and 
I would wager his ten thousand dollars, fee 
that he is here in search of Mrs. Gordon’s 
letter, and that he has devised this sorry trick 


DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND. 


99 


to get me out of the way to give him a few 
hours’ free play. As for Henry Morton, this 
story is simply incredible. Very well, my 
smart sir, I only hope you may find your letter, 
but I doubt your success.” 

A grim smile curled his lips. 

‘ I will carry out the programme, at all 
events. My nephew shall be sent to him. And 
he may have a free field for his search. I 
knew it would come, and they may as well have 
their opportunity. 

He smiled still more knowingly as he walked 
on. It looked doubtful whether the stolen 
letter was concealed in that house. 


100 


TEE STOLEN LETT Eli, 


CHAPTER IX. 

A TRAP FOR A FOX. 

The keen-witted official was right. His visi- 
tor, in his studied lack of curiosity, had not 
made allowance for the character of the man he 
was dealing with. Sharp as he was, Martindale 
had seen through him. 

Hardly had the latter disappeared ere the 
detective became suddenly wideawake to the 
condition of the room. The footsteps of the re- 
tiring man had not died away before the scout 
had a picture of the whole apartment in his 
mind’s eye. 

He lay back in his chair, lost in deep reflec- 
tion, while his active eyes continued to survey 
the surroundings. 

“ I have two good hours,” he said to himself. 
“ An active man can do a good deal in that 
time. To begin with, there is no use to search 
ordinary hiding places. What Julius Martin- 
dale hides will be well hidden. It is the un- 


A TRAP FOR A FOX. 


101 


likely, not the likely, that I have to deal with 
here. 

He sprang from his seat and turned the key 
in the library door, to prevent unwelcome in- 
trusion. He then began a methodical examina- 
tion of the contents of the room. 

Thoroughly experienced in his art the shrewd 
detective rapidly studied the advantages of the 
apartment for concealment- 

They were many- The room contained five 
hundred nooks in which a letter could be hidden. 
The back of every picture and the cover of every 
book might be made to serve this purpose. 
There might be a movable tile around the fire- 
place, or a secret opening in one of the book- 
cases. 

The leg of a chair or table might screw off 
and reveal a secret chamber- The plush cover- 
ing of the furniture might have been loosened 
and the letter thrust beneath it- The carpet 
might have been lifted and a loose board in the 
floor removed. 

There was evidently far more work ahead of 
the detective than time to do it in. Yet he went 
to his task without a moment’s hesitation, and 
with the skill of an expert. 

The floor was the first object studied. The 
carpet was tacked down around its edges. Now, 


102 THE STOLEN LETTER. 

a tack head gathers a certain nest of dust, which 
sweeping cannot quite remove. If any of the 
tacks had been drawn that ancient dust would 
be disturbed. 

Plain eyesight could not be trusted to set- 
tle this question. The detective drew from his 
pocket a pair of strongly magnifying glasses, 
and adjusted them to his eyes- 

“ We shall soon see if the carpet has been 
disturbed.” 

He went the round of it on hands and knees, 
his eyes close down to the row of tacks. At the 
end he rose with a satisfied air. 

“ That point is settled. Not a tack has been 
drawn.” 

It was quite possible, however, that a seam 
in the carpet had been cut and the floor reached 
in this way. 

Yet a single glance satisfied him on this point. 
A seam sewed from above could have been 
seen six feet away. 

“ The floor is out of the question,” he re- 
marked. “ Now for the tiles.” 

These were set in very closely and neatly. 
The cracks between them were scarcely percep- 
tible. Yet Mr. Sharp well knew that dust will 
work in where the sharpest knife cannot enter, 
and his magnifying glasses were again brought 
into play. 


A TRAP FOR A FOX. 


103 


Every line of junction of the tiles was ex- 
amined, under a power that made it distinctly 
visible. 

“ There has been nothing here but the house- 
maid’s brush,” he said. “ If one of those tiles 
had been moved its edge would have been 
wiped clean. Yet I can see no trace of finger 
marks.” 

In the same careful way the round of the 
room was made, the surbase, the backs of the 
picture-frames, the joiner work of the book-cases, 
being all studied in the same skillful manner. 

The furniture of the room was next investi- 
gated, the chairs and tables turned over and 
thoroughly examined, the coverings of the chairs 
studied, all with the same expert skill, and with 
the same negative result. 

The detective finally paused in his search, and 
looked at his watch. 

“ Two hours gone,” he remarked- “ I may 
look for my visitor soon. It is very evident I 
am to have no walk over. I may have to 
search the whole house, from roof to cellar 
floor, in the same fashion- What Julius Mar- 
tindale hides will not be found on a door-step. 
I must have this house to myself, and take it to 
pieces.” 

There were footsteps in the street that seem- 


104 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


ed to stop at the door. In a minute afterwards 
he heard the door open and shut. 

“ That may be my man,” he said to himself. 
“ I must prepare to receive him.” 

He unlocked the library door, hastily replac- 
ed the furniture which he had disturbed, and 
seated himself at the table. Taking up a book 
that lay there he became absorbed in its con- 
tents. 

Steps were heard in the passage outside. 
They stopped at the library door, and a voice 
spoke : 

“ That will do. My uncle expects me in the 
library, you say ? ” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ Very well.” 

The library door opened and the speaker en- 
tered. 

The detective raised his eyes from his book 
and surveyed the person before him. He was 
rather curious to see the man who could play 
tricks successfully on Julius Martindale. 

He saw before him a slender, well-dressed 
young man, with a youthful face, and a very 
fresh visage. 

His were the rosy cheeks and bright eyes of 
a youth fresh from the country. He was a hand- 
some young fellow, with a very open counte- 


A TRAP FOR A FOX . 


105 


nance. No one would have suspected him of 
double dealing. 

This young gentleman looked at the occu- 
pant of the library with an air of surprise. 

“ Excuse me,” he remarked. “ I expected 
to find Mr. Marti ndale here.” 

“ I will take his place for the present,” remark- 
ed the detective with a smile. “ One moment, 
please.” 

He turned back to his book, as if very anxious 
to finish the passage he was reading. After a 
minute he laid it down, and deliberately took off 
and wiped his glasses, which he returned to his 
pocket. 

“ But it is Mr. Martindale I want,” said the 
youth impatiently. “ As he is not here I will 
withdraw.” 

“ I must beg a few minutes of your time,” 
remarked the detective, with a great show of 
politeness. “ I believe I am speaking to Mr. 
Henry Morton ? ” 

“ That is my name,” answered the youth, 
seating himself expectantly. 

The detective fixed on him a look of bland 
benevolence. 

“ You are not a native of Washington, Mr. 
Morton ? ” 

“ I do not claim to be.” 


108 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


“ Have you lived here long ? ” 

The youth, who had been surveying his ques- 
tioner with an air of doubt and suspicion, as- 
sumed a very innocent aspect as he answered : 

“ About a year and a half. And I cannot say 
that I am in love with the city.” 

“ You prefer the bloom and freshness of the 
country.” 

“ I hope you don’t look on me as overly 
fresh,” laughed young Morton. “ I suppose I 
am a little innocent : but I am getting my eye- 
teeth cut.” 

“ Ah ! then you have seen something of the 
elephapt.” 

“ A little more than his tail.” 

Mr. Sharp laughed, as if he enjoyed the joke. 

“ I see. You are not overly green. Have 
you many friends in the city ? ” 

“Yes. Quite a number. Club acquaintances 
and the like.” 

“ This fellow is no fool,” said Mr. Sharp to 
himself. “ He is feeling my lead. He will not 
show his hand until I show mine. Yet there is 
one point I need to be settled on.” 

“ Excuse me,” he remarked. “ I feel quite a 
chilly draught from that open door. As you 
are the younger man may I request you to close 
it.?” 


A TRAP FOR A FOX . 


107 


“ Certainly, since I left it open/' answered 
Morton, rising and walking toward the library 
door. 

The eyes of the detective followed him with a 
keen scenting. A knowing smile marked his 
face. 

“ I have him now,” he said to himself in 
triumph. “ It is the man of the Casino. I saw 
his back, and I do not forget easily. Mr. Henry 
Morton wears that man’s shoulders.” 

The youth returned and took his seat with a 
placid face. Mr. Sharp looked at him with ad- 
miration. He played innocence to perfection 
— if it was playing. “ Have you no other 
but club acquaintances, Mr. Morton?” 

“ Oh, yes. Some office friends. I am in an 
office, you know.” 

“ I see. The gentleman who called on you 
last night was probably one of them. Mr.Thomas 
Bruce, I mean.” 

The youth started sharply at these quietly 
spoken words, while a sudden pallor overspread 
his face. With all his command of himself 
this had been sprung on him too suddenly 
for his nerves. 

“ I do not understand you,” he hastily ex- 
claimed, in a faltering tone. 

“ Pardon me. You understand me very well. 


108 


THE STOLEN LETTER . 


I refer to the person with whom you had an in- 
terview about ten o’clock last night, in reference 
to a certain division of spoils of which Mr. Bruce 
wanted his share.” 

Morton rose to his feet, and clutched his 
chair with a tight grip. His face was quite 
pale, but he suppressed every other sign of emo- 
tion, and surveyed the detective with wary eyes. 

“ If this is all you have to say I think I shall 
go,” he remarked. 

“ But it is not all I have to say, so perhaps 
you had better stay.” 

Mr. Morton seated himself again with a 
steady countenance. He was evidently a very 
cool young man. 

“ I simply wish to recall some interesting 
facts to your memory/’ resumed the detective. 
“ I will tell you some of the points of your in- 
terview with Tom Bruce, if you will let me speak 
of him in that familiar way. 

“ That personage demanded his share of a 
sum of one hundred and sixty thousand dollars 
which two gentlemen of industry had won at 
the Casino, by a neat little game of their own 
devising.” 

Morton winced at this, but said nothing. 

“ You offered him his share on condition that 
he would return certain papers, which you had 


A TRAP FOR A FOX. 10 & 

lost, and for the loss of which you blamed his 
light fingers.” 

A slight gasp came from the youth’s lips, but 
he dug his fingers into the arms of his chair, 
and forced himself to steadily face the speaker. 

“ He denied the fact, but you persisted in your 
accusation,” resumed the detective, who read 
the truth of his remark in the slight change of 
Morton’s expression. 

“ Then he told you that the papers had been 
taken from him, but that he was sure to recover 
them within a few days.” 

“ You are mistaken there. He told me noth- 
ing of the kind,” cried Morton, forgetting him- 
self in his inward excitement. 

Mr. Sharp quietly smiled. 

“ Very good. Then you admit that I was 
correct up to that point ? ” 

Morton flushed deeply as he saw the mistake 
he had made. He had already seen, however, 
that he was in a trap. Tom Bruce had been 
nabbed, he fancied, and had made a clean breast 
of it. 

“ Those papers are very important. The 
thief, if caught, will get off cheaply with twenty 
years in prison. And they have been already 
missed. Not only that, but Mr. Martindale is 
aware of the name of the thief.” 


110 the stolen letter. 

“ Who has told him ? ” broke out Morton. 

“ I have.” 

The young man measured his antagonist with 
an eye that kept cool and wary despite his 
danger. 

“ What do you propose,” he asked in a husky 
tone. “ But first, to whom am I speaking? ” 

“To Frank Sharp, private detective.” 

“ Ah ! So there has been a trap laid for me ! 
That fellow Bruce is coward as well as villain. 
What next, Mr. Sharp ? Where are those doc- 
uments ? ” 

“ In my possession.” 

“ And what is your price for their return ? ” 

“ I first demand one hundred and sixty thou- 
sand dollars in lawful currency of the United 
States, which sum I am employed by Mr. 
Lindsay to recover.” 

“ And no questions asked ? ” 

“ And no questions asked.” 

“ What else ? ” 

“ See here, young man. I do not wish you 
harm. You have wit and courage, and those 
are qualities I like. But you are completely in 
my power, and you must do as I say, if you want 
to escape very serious results. I have some 
questions to ask you, which must be answered 
straightly and truly.” 


A TRAP FOR A FOX. 


Ill 


“ Go on,” rejoined Morton, a little huskily. 
“ I have sense enough to know that just now 
honesty is the best policy-” 

“ What was your object in taking those 
papers ? ” 

“ To gain power over my uncle.” 

“ For what purpose ? ” 

“ I have been a little wild. I have debts.” 

“ He would have paid them.” 

“ Not if he knew I had been deceiving him. 
He would have never forgiven me, for that.” 

“ You wished to force him, then ? ” 

“ That was my plan. I knew there was an 
explosion imminent. I wanted a trump card to 
play if necessary.” 

“ It was a perilous game, said the detective, 
shaking his head. “ And it seems unneces- 
sary. You have other ways of raising money 
than through your uncle.” 

“ As a pick-pocket, do you mean ? ” asked 
the young man, with a flush of shame. “ I 
hope you will not think so meanly of me. I 
was brought into that against my will. I did 
not know Bruce’s scheme until he slipped the 
money into my hand. It was my full intention 
to return it.” 

Mr. Sharp smiled quietly. He believed as 
much as he pleased of this. 


il‘2 THE STOLEN LETTER . 

“ What do you intend to do with me ? ” 
asked the youth, with a trembling lip, yet with 
no other sign of flinching. 

The detective fixed his eyes on him. It 
was evident there was grit and power in the 
man before him. 

p “You have played the fool,” he remarked. 
“ A man of your ability don’t need to steal. 
It is in you to make your way honestly in the 
world. I want you to promise me to give up 
unlawful acts from this moment forward.” 

“ I promise you freely. I have already re- 
solved on that.” 

“ And Washington is not all the world. 
You must leave this city within an hour, on 
your way to Canada. I shall keep my eye on 
you till you hand over the stolen money. But 
out of it you shall have twenty-five hundred dol- 
lars as a start in an honest life. Do you agree 
to this? ” 

“ What will be done with the papers ? ” 

“ Leave that to me. I have other irons 
in the fire. But, so far as you are concerned, 
it is the penitentiary or the Dominion of Can- 
ada. You have your choice. Which do you 
take ? 

“ Montreal.” 

“ Then come with me at once. We must 


A TRAP FOR A FOX. 


118 


get through the preliminaries without de- 
lay.” 

They seized their hats and left the library in 
company. 


114 


THE STOLEN LETTER . 


CHAPTER X. 

DETECTIVE SHARP MAKES TWO VISITS- 

We must return to another of our characters, 
of whom we have lost sight for some time. 

This is Mr. Harry Lindsay, the main cause 
of most of the incidents of our story, and who 
has been in anything but an easy state of mind 
since we last saw him. 

We find him now in his own apartment, 
where he is pacing to and fro distractedly. He 
has flung his smoking-cap fiercely aside, and 
run his fingers through his hair till it is stand- 
ing upright on his head. 

There is a letter in his hand, which he waves 
wildly in the air, while exclamations of spite and 
anger come from his lips. 

“ Why didn’t I cut off my right hand, before 
I wrote that confounded epistle ? ” he cried, 
fiercely. “ Fool and idiot that I was ! A peck 
of trouble caused by ten lines of writing ! A 
fool’s pen is the most dangerous weapon in ex- 
istence, I’ve found that out.” 


Detective sharp makes two visits . n 5 

Further words were checked by the sound of 
footsteps, and a hand on the door. Lindsay 
halted in his hasty movements, and strove to 
throw off his signs of excitement. 

The door opened, and a servant announced : 

“ Mr. Sharp.” 

The young man gave a slight exclamation as 
he recognized the detective as his visitor. 

“Just the man I want to see,” he cried. 
“Have you good news? The letter? What 
have you done about the letter ? ” 

“ Nothing,” was the quiet reply. “ I laid my 
plans, thaF-is all. Something or nothing may 
come of them. But that is not my business 
here to-day. You forget that I had another 
job in hand — the tracking of the thieves who 
stole your cash.” 

“ A fig for the cash ! ” cried Lindsay im- 
patiently. “ I would give ten times the sum for 
that letter.” 

“Yet a hundred and sixty thousand dollars 
are not to be sneezed at,” answered the un- 
moved detective, as he calmly seated himself, 
and took a package from his pocket, which he 
laid on the table. 

“ Be kind enough to count that,” he remarked. 
“ I think you will find the sum correct, less three 
thousand dollars of wastage and expenses.” 


ii6 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


Lindsay stared at him in surprise. 

“You don’t mean to say,” he exclaimed, “ that 
you have actually tracked those thieves and re- 
covered the money ? ” 

“ I wish I could have recovered the letter as 
easily. That is a much more difficult job. Pray 
count the money.” 

Lindsay looked at him for a moment. Then 
he jerked impatiently away. 

“ That can wait,” he cried. “ I have a letter 
here that has distracted me. Stay, I will read it 
to you. Or no, I will tell you its contents. The 
name of the writer must be kept sacredly secret. 

“ She has not signed it, I hope.” 

“ No. But her style — her handwriting ” 

“ Very true. These might reveal the identity 
of Mrs. Gordon.” 

“ Ha! You know? It has come out then? 
All is lost ! ” cried Lindsay, with a violent start 
of dread and astonishment. 

“ You did not imagine that I would undertake 
a job of this difficulty in the dark ! Don’t fear 
for your secret. It is my business to know be- 
fore I act.” 

Lindsay stared at him, as he spoke this in 
a dry, matter-of-fact tone. 

“ I see,” he exclaimed. “ You have tracked 
Martindale to her house. I might as well have 


DETECTIVE SHARP MAKES TWO VISITS. 117 


told you at first. But listen. The affair is grow- 
ing more urgent. That letter must be recover- 
ed without delay if it costs every penny of this 
money.” 

He struck his hand violently on the package 
of U. S. Treasury notes. 

“ She calls on me almost pitifully to make 
haste,” he continued, running his eye over the 
letter. “ Martindale is showing his hand more 
fully. You see General Gordon is deep in the 
secrets of the government. He makes a confi- 
dant of his wife, and his papers are in her care. 
Some of these secrets would be a fortune to a 
shrewd villain like Martindale, and he is seeking 
to force them from the fair victim of his 
schemes.” 

“ Ah, I admire that man,” rejoined the detec- 
tive. “ He is no ordinary plotter. His secretary- 
ship, and the control of the government secrets 
will make him rich and powerful. It is a neat- 
ly-laid plot. I admire him.” 

“ I would like to cut his throat,” exclaimed 
Lindsay spitefully. 

“ I admire him as an able enemy, not as a 
possible friend,” resumed the detective. “ It is 
an honor to deal with an opponent like this, and 
it will make a man’s reputation to defeat him.” 

“ And you hope to defeat him ? ” 


118 


THE STOLEN LETTER . 


“ I expect to,” said Mr. Sharp, confidently. 
“ I have not been idle, Mr. Lindsay. Before we 
are three days older I will have made some high- 
ly important moves in our game. What they 
are must be as secret as Mrs. Gordon’s name. 
Pray count that money.” 

Thus admonished, Lindsay did so, and an- 
nounced that the sum was correct. 

“ Five thousand dollars was the fee I promis- 
ed you,” he remarked. “ Is that sufficient ? ” 

“ Quite.” • 

“ Then here are two thousand more. You 
may need ready funds in your present task. 
That leaves me an even hundred and fifty thou- 
sand, every cent of which I am ready to spend 
in this enterprise.” 

“ Money will be needed,” remarked the detec- 
tive. “But wits are more necessary. I have# 
before me a conflict of cunning rather than of 
cash. -What is the hour, sir ? ” 

“ Eight o’clock and ten minutes.” 

“ I must see Martindale by nine. Good even- 
ing, Mr. Lindsay. I have but one piece of ad- 
vice to give before I go.” 

“ What is that, sir ? ” 

“ That you burn that letter at once.” 

“You are right. I will do so.” 

The detective took his departure. He had 


DETECTIVE SHARP MAKES TWO VISITS . 119 

correctly expressed his intentions. He made 
his way at once to Mr. Martindale’s house. 

It was the hour he had named, nine o’clock, 
when he was ushered into the presence of the 
official in the room of their former interview. 

“ Where have you been ! ” asked Martindale, 
impatiently. “ I expected to see you after your 
interview with my nephew.” 

“ You should have returned sooner, then,” 
answered the detective with quiet firmness. 
“ Men in my profession have no spare mo- 
ments-” 

“Very well,” rejoined Martindale, “What 
have you done ? I should have called on young 
Morton myself, but deemed it best to await 
your report.” 

“ It was best. Too many cooks spoil the 
broth,” rejoined the detective- “ I have not 
been idle, Mr. Martindale.” 

“ What have you done ? ” 

“ I have learned where those papers are- I 
can lay my hands on them at will.” 

“ Ha ! Then you were right ? my nephew 
was the thief? ’’ 

“ I accuse no one. I simply affirm that the 
documents are at my command-” 

“ You have done well, sir,” declared Martin- 
dale, with a look of deep satisfaction. “ If you 


120 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


say that I am to ask no questions I shall under- 
stand it so. Return me the documents and 
the fee demanded is yours. Trust me to take 
care that there is no repetition of this offence.” 

He closed his lips firmly. It was evident that 
no thief would find the records of the State 
Department easy plunder again. 

“ I have changed my mind,” said Mr- Sharp 
quietly. “ I no longer demand the ten thou- 
sand dollar fee promised.” * 

“ Ah ! But you are not working for amuse- 
ment ? ” 

“ Not at all. The documents are yours, 
in exchange for an equivalent.” 

“ Name your equivalent,” demanded Mr. Mar- 
tindale, with some show of curiosity. 

“ It is a certain letter, the property of Mrs. 
Lucile Gordon, wife of General George Gor- 
don, which letter is now in the hands of Mr. 
Julius Martindale.” 

“ Ha ! ” cried the secretary with a start of sur- 
prise- “ So lies the wind, eh ? I fancied so, 
by Jove ! ” He broke into a short grim laugh. 
“ I judged you were beating around that bush.” 

“ Do you agree ? ” asked the detective. 

“ I deny knowledge of any such letter,” an- 
swered Mr. Martindale, with grim decision. 
14 So, Mr. Frank Sharp, that is the cat you had 


DETECTIVE SHARP MAKES TWO VISITS. 121 

in your bag eh ? I renew my offer of the ten 
thousand dollars-” 

“ I decline the offer.” 

“ That is for you to decide,” was the reply. 
“ I shall not force the money on you. Under- 
stand, once for all, that I deny knowledge, of 
any such letter.” 

“ Then there is nothing further to be said,” 
remarked the detective, rising and taking his 
hat- 

“ There is nothing further to be said. If you 
prefer to make the robbery public, very well. 
The thief will be ruined and I maybe censured. 
That is all.” 

“ Not quite all, Mr. Martindale,” said the de- 
tective, looking the astute official meaningly in 
the eye. 

Martindale bore his look without a change 
of countenance. Evidently he had taken his 
course- He meant what he had said- 

“ Good evening, sir,” said the detective. 

“ Good evening,” was the firm reply. 

Mr. Sharp left the room. 

Two minutes afterwards found him in the 
street. He had not gone ten paces from the 
house ere he gave a signal, at sound of which 
two men sprang from the shadows of the ad- 
joining houses. 


122 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


Some rapid words were exchanged. Then 
the dark forms sank back again into the shad- 
ows, and Mr. Sharp passed on. 

“ It is war to the knife now,” he muttered. 
“ He intends to try his worthy nephew. I 
fancy he will find that I have been before him 
there. We shall see who can play his cards 
best, politician or detective.” 

Ten minutes afterwards Mr. Martindale 
emerged from his house. He looked around 
him with his habitual wariness before leaving 
the step* Then he started forward at a brisk 
pace in the direction of Leffingwell Terrace. 

The walk before him was a long one, but 
he strode onward with the firm, free tread of a 
man in robust health, and with a fixed object in 
view. 

His route lay through a number of streets, 
some of them well tenanted, others nearly de- 
serted. 

One of the latter was a narrow avenue be- 
tween some large warehouses, which formed 
a short cut in the direction of his journey* 

The place seemed quite deserted. Yet 
Martindale had not half traversed it ere the 
sound of a whistle came to his ears, and two 
men started out from the shadows of a deep 
doorway directly before him. 


DETECTIVE SB A TIP MAKES TWO VISITS. 123 

Simultaneously two other men appeared in 
his rear. 

“ Stand and deliver ! ” cried one of them 
harshly. “ And not a word or a whimper if 
you don’t want to be throttled.” 

The next instant the men had closed on him, 
and he was a prisoner in four pairs of strong 
arms. 

Martindale’s first impulse was to struggle 
and to give an alarm. But he repressed this 
intention, and calmly asked them : 

“Well. You have me. What do you want 
with me ? ” 

“ Jist to ’vestigate your pockets. An’ you’ll 
keep mum if you’re wise.” 

Martindale was wise enough to know this, 
and he stood without moving a muscle while 
his assailants proceeded rapidly to search him. 

They were evidently experts at the business ; 
and their search was most thorough. Not an 
inch of his clothing but was examined. 

Finally, taking his purse and watch as the 
only valuables found on him, they released him, 
and suffered him to proceed. 

He had not taken three steps, however before 
his assailants vanished. 

A knowing smile came to Martindale’s lips as 
he walked steadily on* 


124 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


“So, war is declared between Frank Sharp 
and me,” he said to himself. “ The letter is not 
on my person. That is settled. Then my 
house comes next in the line of search. Will 
they find it ? I doubt their ability.” 

Ten minutes more brought him to the house in 
Leffingwell Terrace, in which his nephew re- 
sided. 

“ Mr. Morton ? ” remarked the servant, in reply 
to his inquiry. “ Why, he is no longer here, 
sir. He left six hours ago, and took the train 
to Charleston. He is going to Cuba, sir.” 

The sound that came from Martindale’s 
lips was almost an oath. He stared at the 
servant for a moment, and then turned sharp 
on his heel and left the steps. 

An hour afterwards found him at the Balti- 
more and Potomac depot. Some well put 
questions satisfied him in regard to what he 
wished to know. 

“ As I suspected, he said. “ The Charles- 
ton trip is a lure. He is off for Canada. I 
must run him down at once. We shall see, 
my fine youth, whether you are more than 
a match for your uncle.” 

A train was about to pull out. Hastily buying 
a ticket, Martindale jumped on board. 

Of two persons who had observed Jiis move- 


detective sharp makes two visits. 125 

ments at a distance, one quickly entered the 
smoking car on the train. The other stood 
watching it as it drew out from the station. 

He then hastened away, directing his footsteps 
towards the office of Frank Sharp, detective. 

Evidently the game laid by that personage 
was in full play. 


126 


THE STOLE# LETTER. 


CHAPTER XI. 

SLIPPERY JOE CORRALED. A POLICE SEARCH. 

While Julius Martindale was off in full 
chase of his runaway nephew, Frank Sharp, the 
detective, had made his way back towards his 
office, very well satisfied with the state of affairs. 

He entered with a quiet step, that failed 
to rouse an echo in the solid old building. 

Jake, the police spy, was still on guard, and a 
dozen words between the two sufficed to put 
the detective in full information. 

“ I hope to have other fish in the pan before 
the night is over,” remarked the detective. 
“ And I shall want your help. As for Slippery 
Joe, he can be left to carry out his scheme. I 
have found out what he is after, and I hardly 
think he will get it.” 

He touched his fingers to his breast pocket, 
with a significant smile. 

“ But you have other important papers here. 
He might get into some valuable secrets.” 


SLIPPERY JOE CORRAL El). A POLICE SEARCH . 127 

“ That is so- It may be best to call on the 
gentleman, and give him his walking ticket.” 

“ Hist ! ’ warned Jake. “ Do you hear that ? 
There seems to be something in the wind.” 

What he referred to was a faint sound from 
the corridor, that seemed like the stealthy 
opening of a door. 

They sunk into silence, and waited. 

After a minute a faint, shuffling noise came 
to their ears. It seemed just at the door of 
the office. Silence followed, that lasted for 
several minutes. 

Then the shuffling sound was faintly audible 
again, and was followed by a slight scratching 
noise on the door. 

Inside the room all was still as death. Not a 
breath could have been heard. 

The scratching sound lasted but a minute, 
and was succeeded by the metallic creak of a 
lock- The next moment the door was pushed 
cautiously open- 

Slippery Joe’s method was now evident- 
He had obtained an impression of the lock and 
had a duplicate key made. The fellow was evi- 
dently an old hand- 

inside the room blank darkness prevailed. 
The tenants had extinguished their light and 
concealed themselves. 


12$ 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


Joe’s first step was to strike a match, and 
light a candle which he carried. 

He looked around the room. No one was 
visible. 

“ The coasts clear,” he muttered with satisfac- 
tion. “ Guess I’ll shet out all stragglers.” 

He closed and locked the door. 

“ Now ’bout them papers- An’ quick as 
greased lightnin’, kase there’s no tellin’ when 
that sly coon of a Little Joker might pop in, 
and that wouldn’t be noways comftable.” 

Without a moment’s hesitation he proceeded 
to the desk of the detective, opened it, and coolly 
seated himself, while he pulled a thick bunch of 
papers from a pigeon hole. 

This he untied, and began a rapid examination 
of its contents, opening and reading the heading 
of each paper. 

This proceeded for some time. 

“ Wonder what he’s done with them doky- 
ments,” queried Joe in dissatisfaction. “ Ther’ 
here somewhere, but I s’pose I’ll have to go 
through the whole caboodle ’fore I light down on 
’em. And time’s sorter pressin’. The Joker 
mought ha’ laid ’em out more handy like.” 

He laughed at his own wit, as he continued 
his rapid scrutiny. One paper at length arrested 
his attention. 


SLIPPER F JOE COPRA LED. A POLICE SEARCH. 129 

“ Hillol ” he cried, “ Here’s beans and punkins- 
Somethin’ ’bout Tom Bruce, sure as shootin’. 
Reckon I’ll rake that in, Tom mought like to 
’spect it.” 

He was on the point of thrusting the paper in 
his pocket, when a voice at his ear caused him 
to hastily drop it, and start as if he had been 
shot 

“ I wouldn’t, if I were you,” spoke the 
voice. 

Joe wormed sharply round, but all he saw 
was a hand holding a revolver, that nearly touch- 
ed his right ear. 

He twisted nervously round in the other 
direction, only to see another hand, with another 
revolver, within an inch of his left ear. 

He turned back again, clapped both hands 
over his ears, and bent forward till his nose 
touched the desk. 

“ I cave ! ” he said. 

His next movement was to hold up his arms, 
with the wrists close together. 

“ Slip on the darbies,” he continued. “ The 
jig’s up. The Joker wins. Jist prominade me 
down to a Cheap John’s, and sell me for what 
I’ll fetch I reckon I won’t rake in no high bids 
jist now.” 

“ Get up,” spoke a stern voice. 

9 


130 THE STOLEN LETTER . 

Joe obediently did so. He glanced sheepishly 
around at the two armed men behind him. 

“ Did you ever hear of the goose going to the 
fox’s hole for snacks ? ” asked the detective, with 
a grim smile. 

“ Won’t somebody kick me for a blamed fool?” 
answered Joe. “ If I’d had as much common 
sense as a blind jackass I’d never ha’ bucked 
agin the Joker. S’pose I'm in for a slip behind 
the gridiron.” 

They were interrupted at this moment by foot- 
steps in the passage. They were quickly suc- 
ceeded by the entrance of a person to the 
room. He paused in surprise at the tableau 
before him. 

The detective turned towards this new comer, 
led him out to the hall, and spoke with him for a 
few minutes in low tones. 

“ Your search was thorough?” 

“ Yes. He has no such paper about him ” 

“ And he took the train for New York? ” 

“ He did. With Bill Plum as lookout.” 

“ Then we must get to work at once.” 

“ What’s up here, Mr. Sharp ? ” 

“ This fellow ? Oh, he’s a candidate for Salt 
Creek. It’s lucky for him that I have more im- 
portant work in hand just now. See here, 
Slippery Joe.” 


SLIPPERY JOE CORRALED. A POLICE SEARCH. 131 

The crouching villain turned hastily towards 
the speaker. 

“ I’m going to let you slip this time. But 
bear in mind that I’ve got a rope on your neck. 
If you try any more ugly tricks, back you come 
on a run. And you can put the same spice in 
Tom Bruce’s hash.” 

“ I’m goin’ to be an honest man,” whimpered 
Joe. “ You’re a gentleman, Mr. Sharp, and 
I’ll never forgit yer kindness.” 

“You lie, you beat. You’d steal a beggar’s 
bone to-morrow for an ounce of meat. Get now. 
And mind your eye. If you drop into my 
clutches again, up you go. And don’t forget 
it.” 

“ Reckon I won’t mighty soon.” 

Joe was off like a streak of lightning. He 
was not going to take chances on the Joker’s 
changing his mind. 

“ And now, lads, for the other job,” remarked 
the detective. “ Bring up the men, and be at 
the place appointed within an hour. I will be 
there in advance.” 

An hour afterwards found Frank Sharp, Jake, 
and the men sent for, inside Julius Martindale’s 
house. How they had entered it was one of 
the secrets known only to the police. It will 
suffice to say that a dozen men were within the 


132 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


mansion, yet its servants slept on, without the 
slightest hint of anything amiss. 

They slept, it is true, in the upper chambers 
of the dwelling, while the police agents were 
gathered below. 

“ Now, men, to work,” commanded the detec- 
tive. “ You know your tasks. The search must 
be thorough. The letter can be hidden in a 
crack that a fly could not enter. To work. Let 
nothing escape you.” 

The force was divided up between several 
rooms, and went to their task with the caution, 
silence, and skill of thoroughly trained experts. 

Scarcely a sound that would have wakened 
a fly came from their operations. Yet the 
rooms that had been given to their hands were 
explored with a care and minuteness that no 
band of skilled mechanics could have surpassed. 

No surface search satisfied Frank Sharp. 
The more complicated pieces of furniture were 
taken to pieces. 

The men were provided with every tool of 
cabinet-maker and upholsterer. But their art 
was superior to that of any mechanic. It was a 
noiseless art. Their work was performed al- 
most without a sound. 

For the whole night the process continued, 
the detective acting as overseer, going from 


SLIPPER r JOE CORRALED. A POLICE SEARCH. 133 

room to room, directing and watching every 
movement, and keenly studying out every pos- 
sible hiding-place. 

Before morning the search of the library, 
which he had begun, was completed, and of 
every other room on the same floor. 

Yet the hidden letter remained undiscovered. 
No trace of it had been found, though every 
possible hiding-place in the rooms examined 
had been opened, or probed with skillfully de- 
vised tools. 

Yet when the servants of the mansion awoke 
in the morning, and opened the various rooms 
to the daylight, not a trace of disturbance was 
visible. 

Every article of furniture sat in its usual 
place. Objects which had been completely 
taken to pieces were whole and sound again, 
without a pin scratch to mark the secret opera- 
tions. Not a particle of dirt or litter was visible. 
No one could have dreamed of the events which 
had taken place in those rooms during the 
night. 

The domestics went to their daily labors 
in happy ignorance, without a shadow of sus- 
picion of anything out of the ordinary* 

That morning a telegram was delivered at an 

o o 

early hour into Frank Sharp’s hands, 


134 


THE STOLEN LETTEE. 


“Jersey City, 5 o’clock, A. M. — The chase 
is off for Canada. J. M. is booked for the early 
boat. I travel by the same. Next word from 
Albany. W. P.” 

“ That clears the coast for another night,” 
said the detective with satisfaction. “ If he 
nabs Morton then I’m no judge of human nature. 
That young man needs no lessons in cunning.” 

That night was a copy of the preceding one. 
The search was now on the first floor, which 
was investigated as thoroughly as the second 
floor had been. And with the same result. The 
letter remained undiscovered. 

While this process was in operation a series 
of telegrams kept the detective fully advised 
of every step of the chase. 

It had gone on from Albany to Montreal, and 
from Montreal towards Detroit. The keen-wit- 
ted pursuer had so far traced the route of the 
fugitive, but had not been able to overtake 
him. 

But he is up to business. He has got out 
a warrant of arrest in Montreal, and telegraphed 
an order of detention to a station on the route. 
The runaway’s game is up, unless he is very 
sharp. 

But that just hit the truth on the nail. The 


SLIPPERY JOE CORRALED. A POLICE SEARCH. 135 

runaway was very sharp. And this the next 
telegram proved. 

“ Nephew has given uncle the slip. Passed 
the search in disguise, or left the train by the 
way. Has vanished, and J. M. is off his eggs.” 

All this gave the detective the opportunity he 
had desired- The investigation of the house 
went on, night after night- To gain chance 
to study the servants’ rooms the latter were 
invited to a feast and frolic by an acquaintance 
who was in police pay. 

This jollification was kept up to a late hour of 
the night, the merry roisterers not dreaming 
that a dozen men were in their rooms, turning 
over their valuables, and making a thorough 
sthdy of the apartments. 

When the hint was given to break up the 
party, the house was empty. The search had 
been completed. 

Yet no trace of the letter was found. 

Frank Sharp sat in his office the next day an- 
noyed and out of spirits. With his head on 
his hand he sat long in moody silence. Then 
he broke out into somewhat spiteful speech. 

“ He has beaten me- The letter is not on 
his person, nor in his house. Yet it cannot be 


136 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


far away. Where is it ? that is the question. 
I see no hope but in the other scheme. If well 
played that may be successful. Meanwhile 
Martindale must be kept strictly under shadow. 
He may lead the way to his hiding-place though 
I have little hope of it.” 

His reverie was interrupted by the entrance 
of another telegram, which read : 

“ Chase ended. J. M. gives it up. Is on his 
return. Look for him.” 

“ Let him come. I want him on the ground 
now. There must be an entire change of plan.” 


A HUNTING EXCURSION. 


137 


CHAPTER XII- 

A HUNTING EXCURSION. 

Keen as Julius Martindale was, his young 
nephew had succeeded in eluding him ; but 
then, as Mrs. Gordon had once remarked to 
Harry Lindsay, the person who is hiding always 
has the advantage of him who is seeking, and 
besides there is no genius so rich in expedients 
as the genius of fear. Be that as it may, Henry 
Morton escaped his pursuer, and at Detroit 
the pursuit was abandoned. But it is an in- 
controvertible truth that if anything disappears 
from one locality it is sure to appear in another ; 
and if Mr. Martindale had not chosen to abandon 
his pursuit, it is not unlikely that he would 
eventually have found his man. Anyway his 
nephew did not succeed in utterly annihilat- 
ing himself, as we shall presently see. 

Will Benton was a young man who, under 
an exterior which, it must be confessed, bore a 
not distant likeness to what is known in vulgar 


138 THE stolen letter. 

parlance as a “ dude,” carried a headpiece which 
was available when a headpiece was required ; 
and in this case he was deeply and generously 
interested. So, after doing a certain amount 
of independent thinking and arranging, he one 
day visited Lindsay, and announced his inten- 
tion of taking a couple of weeks off for a “ hunt- 
ing trip ” to the west. 

Harry was rather surprised at this determina- 
tion, but being piqued that his best friend 
should thus abandon him in his trouble, did 
what most men would do under similar circum- 
stances, — said a dignified good-bye, and the 
moment his friend’s back was turned commended 
him to the care of a very, very evil Royal Per- 
sonage, who wears a tail, hoofs and horns, 
on full-dress occasions. 

Will bought a ticket direct to Detroit ; and 
the third morning after leaving the Union Depot 
in Washington, landed in Chicago, sure that he 
was on the right scent. He wasted no time 
after his arrival, but consulted the directory at 
once and in less than half an hour after step- 
ping out of the Michigan Central sleeper stood 
before a certain tall building on La Salle Street, 
the front of which bears in large letters the sign 
of Pinkerton’s Detective Agency, over the sug- 
gestive picture of an open eye, and the motto, 


A HUNTING EXCURSION. 


139 


“ We never sleep.” A few minutes later found 
him closeted with a man at the mention of whose 
name criminals from the Golden Gate to the 
“Tip End of Yankee Land” were wont to 
tremble. 

“Well, sir?” said this gentleman, with a 
business-like air which said more plainly than 
words, “ let us come to the point — what can I do 
for you ? ” 

“ I want to engage you to find a young man 
for me,” answered Benton. 

“ Is he in Chicago ? ” inquired the great detec- 
tive. 

“ That is exactly what I want to know,” Will 
replied ; and then he related the story, omitting, 
however, all mention of Morton's crime, and 
leaving the detective under the impression that 
he merely wanted an interview with the fugitive 
for personal reasons. When he had finished, the 
prince of detectives asked for a description, in 
answering which request Will handed him the 
photograph, which he supplemented with the 
details of complexion, height, manner, walk, etc., 
so far as he knew them. 

“ That will do,” said the detective finally, “ if 
he is in the city, we will find him for you. I do 
not think we shall require more than three 
days, though probably one will suffice ” 


140 


THE STOLEN LETTER . 


“ I hope so,” Will returned, taking his hat and 
preparing to leave ; “ for time is exceedingly 
precious in this case. I will leave my card, and 
if you find my young friend, please have your 
agent simply locate him for me without giving 
him any suspicion that he is being shadowed, 
and communicate with me immediately at the 
Palmer House, where I will register under the 
name of ‘ Chas. L. Jones, Toronto.’ ” 

The detective smiled approvingly as he wrote 
the fictitious name and the hotel on Benton’s 
card, and bade his young client good-morning. 

“ So far so good,” mused Will, to himself, as 
he emerged from the Detective Agency into the 
smoky sunshine on La Salle Street ; “ now for 
some breakfast, a good cigar and a little snooze. 
But hold on! ” he exclaimed, stopping suddenly, 
as a thought struck him. “ Suppose I should 
stumble up against the young cub somewhere, 
and he should recognize me! By Jove, that’s 
an idea ! Why, he’d skip out like a flea, sure 
as a gun.” 

Will stopped at the corner of Monroe Street 
and stroked his very correctly cut English beard 
with great affection. Finally he murmured with 
a sigh of comical desperation — 

“ Well, what must be, must ; so off you go, my 
lordly mop.” And fearing lest his will should 


A HUNTING EXCURSION. 


141 

weaken, he hurried up to the tonsorial palace in 
the Palmer House, famous among gods and 
men, and within twenty minutes stepped forth, as 
verily “ translated ” as was Bully Bottom after 
he got the ass’s head affixed to his shoulders. 
His most intimate friends would not have known 
him, so great was the transformation. 

“ Now, then,” he muttered, surveying himself 
in the glass with mingled satisfaction and regret ; 
“ now, then, for a mutton chop, coffee el air 
And passing through the barber’s shop into the 
hotel rotunda, he walked to the desk and signed 
in a bold hand his fictitious name and address. 

“Breakfast, sir?” inquired the courteous 
clerk. 

“ If you please,” Will replied, affecting a slight 
English drawl. 

“ Will you be shown to your room first, sir? ” 
asked the clerk, as he held his hand over the 
call bell. 

“ Oh, no, thank you. I’m just off the sleeping 
coach, don’t you know, and deucedly hungry.” 

“Ting,” went the bell, and “Front” called 
the clerk; and then, when the call boy answered 
the summons, — “ Show the gentleman to the 
breakfast room ! ” 

Being ravenously hungry, Will despatched 
quite a respectable breakfast ; and after finishing, 


142 THE STOLEN LETTER. 

strolled down to the billiard-room to have a 
smoke and a look around. 

His customary nicotianic diet was confined 
to cigarettes, but on special occasions, like the 
present, he allowed himself the more serious in- 
dulgence of a fine Havana “ weed.” 

He had scarcely been seated a minute ere he 
noticed, nearly opposite him, a strangely familiar 
face. The owner of this face was a very young 
man, not very long past the age when the male 
citizen ceases to be an infant in law, and secures 
the proud privilege of casting his first vote, and 
aiding to shape the destinies of his nation. The 
face itself was smooth, frank, with a bloom that 
must have been the envy of his lady acquaint- 
ances. 

As Will studied his vis-a-vis, gradually there 
dawned upon his mind a wondering suspicion, 
which gradually ripened into an amazed convic- 
tion, that this interesting face and the body per- 
taining thereto were none other than the face 
and person of Henry Morton, the fugitive after 
whom he had come to Chicago. 

When this certainty unfolded itself in Will’s 
mind, he gave vent to a suppressed ejaculation : — 

“ Well, I’m d — d !” (He was not more choice 
than the average young man in his private lan- 
guage). “ Now/’ he reflected, “ I wonder if he has 


A HUNTING EXCURSION. 143 

noticed my scrutiny. I don’t believe he has, 
and it will be safe for me to go to the clerk’s 
desk and send a message to Mr. Pinkerton.” 

He waited a few minutes, smoking indolently, 
then rose, and with an aimless air, strolled back 
into the rotunda. Then it took but a moment 
for him to scribble a few lines — 

“ I’ve run my game to earth in the hotel. 
Send some one to hang around handy. I’m 
going to work him myself, but may need help. 

“ Chas. L. Jones, 

“ Toronto.” 

This note he saw despatched by a messen- 
ger, and then strolled back to the billiard-room. 

What was his chagrin and amazement on en- 
tering the room, to see at a glance that the bird 
had flown ! 

We have noted, ere this, that Henry Morton 
was an uncommonly shrewd young man ; and 
it is not likely that under the circumstances 
which hastened his flight from Washington, he 
should so soon relax his vigilance. The truth 
is, that the one idea constantly uppermost in 
his mind, was, “ I may be caught; I must be 
cautious and regard every, man as a possible 
pursuer.” So when his nervous vigilance caught 


U4 THE STOLEN LETTETt. 

the eyes of Will Benton studying his face, though 
he betrayed no sign, he watched his chance, 
and the moment the other’s back was turned, 
hurriedly left the room. 

Finding himself directly upon Wabash 
Avenue, he turned northward, walking rapidly 
and soliloquizing as he went. 

“ Well, I’m a sweet-scented idiot, that’s 
a fact ! a baby ought to have known better 
than to loaf around in such a public place. I 
wonder who he was. Don’t believe I’ve ever 
seen him, but then — Oh, pshaw ! He didn’t 
know me from Adam ; but it was, or might 
have been a close shave. I guess, young man, 
it’ll be a healthier plan for you to go home and 
lie low,” and so saying he hastened his steps, 
turning east on Water Street, and then north 
again, across the Rush Street bridge. 

Finally, after about twenty minutes’ smart 
tramping, he turned west on Washington Place, 
then again north on Dearborn Avenue, and ran 
up the steps of a beautiful mansion on the south 
east corner of that aristocratic street and Walton 
Place. Opening the door with a private latch- 
key, he stepped quickly into the hall-way, and 
then for the first time breathed freely, with a 
feeling of security. 

A few minutes later, a venerable old gentle- 


A BUNTING EXCURSION. 


145 


man, apparently out for a leisurely “ constitu- 
tional,” passed the house, and without seeming 
to notice it, took in, at one swift sidewise glance, 
location, number and details of the building, 
with such minuteness, that on the witness stand 
he could have sworn even to the shape of the 
bell pull and the number of steps leading up to 
the door. Then, without pausing in his delib- 
erate pace, he turned across the avenue and 
seating himself under one of the magnificent 
trees in Washington Square, drew a Tribune 
from his pocket, adjusted his spectacles, and set 
himself leisurely to read the morning’s news. 

We do not believe that a single one of our 
readers, had he chanced to pass that way, would 
have given a second glance at the respectable 
gentleman, reading his paper in the square, or 
that any one would have imagined him other 
than he seemed ; yet under that unobtrusive ex- 
terior was concealed the person of one of Pink- 
erton’s shrewdest detectives, familiarly known 
as “ Daddy Slick,” though in the bosom of his 
family and on the rolls of the city register, he 
bore the more dignified title, “ Charles B. La 
claire.” Nor did he spend his moments in 
reading. Though his eyes were fixed upon the 
paper in his hands, his mind schemed rapidly 

on another subject ; and presently, having 
10 


146 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


worked out the problem to his satisfaction, he 
quietly put his glasses into their case, folded 
his paper, and walking to the corner of Washing- 
ton Place and Clark Street, hailed and boarded a 
south-bound car. 

An hour later there was a ring at the door- 
bell of number 319 Dearborn Avenue; and the 
servant answering the ring, found on the step a 
young man, who with a very business-like air, 
said, “ Special school census. Please give me 
the names of the residents. 1 ’ 

“ Phat’s thim ? ” inquired Bridget, astounded. 

“ The names of the people that live in the 
house,” explained the visitor rapidly, as he dip- 
ped his pen into a little ink bottle that he car- 
ried in his vest pocket, and opened a little book 
of long narrow blank slips, in which he prepared 
to write. 

“ Oh, the names, is it? ” commented the cau- 
tious Bridget. “ And phat is ityez do be wantin’ 
thim for, at all ? ” 

u For the school census, I tell you.” 

“ Och, is it the childer yez mane? Well, 
there does be divil a wan,” and she prepared 
to close the door. 

“ No, no ; not the children : every man, woman 
and child in the house, I want the name of — 
including the pretty second girl,” he added, 


A HUNTING EXCURSION. 


147 


glancing at her sidewise, with a flattering smile. 

Och, go ’long wid yer blarney, ” answered 
Bridget, giggling and relenting ; “ is it the names 
of ivery wan yez want? ” 

“ Every one, my dear. Now, to begin with 
the prettiest ; what’s your own name, for in- 
stance ? ” 

“ Go ’long, wid ye ! Phat good wad it do yez 
to know me name ? Well thin, its Bridget 
O’Connell.” 

“ And a good name it is, too,” said the census- 
taker proceeding to write it down on one of his 
slips. “ It’s the name of the noblest patriot Ire- 
land ever had.” 

“Sure, yez don't be writin’ it down!” ex- 
claimed the delighted Bridget, looking with 
curiosity over his shoulder. 

“ Of course I am ; and it’s going into a book, 
‘ Bridget O’Connell, age twenty, (you can’t be 
a day older;) residence, 319 Dearborn Avenue.’ 
Now for the rest. Begin with the master of the 
house.” 

And then Bridget, ticking them off on her 
fingers, as if saying her rosary, named one 
after the other, all the inmates of this fashionable 
boarding house. 

The census-taker wrote them down in suc- 


cession. 


148 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


“ Is that all, now ?” he inquired, as Bridget 
came to the end. 

“ Yis ; ivery blissed wan ; — the saints forgive 
me ! but I’ve clane lift out the new boarder ; 
and him a cornin’ only, it was the day before 
yisterday.” 

“ The new boarder, Bridget ? And what’s 
his name ? ” 

“ Och, and don’t I be a fergettin’ that same ! 
But it’s a quare wan : Martin — Martingall — 
Martingale ! I think that’s it — Martindale ; yis, 
sorr ; that’s the gintleman’s name, sure ! ” 

“ Martindale ? ” exclaimed the census-taker, in 
tones expressive of intense astonishment. “ I 
used to know a young fellow of that name, at 
school- What does he look like ? ” 

And thereupon, Bridget described, with 
tolerable accuracy, our young friend Morton. 

“ Oh, no ! ” exclaimed the listener, with disap- 
pointment evident in every tone, it must be 
another Martindale. My friend was very dark 
complexioned, and over six feet high when I met 
him last ; well, good-bye, Bridget, my dear, and 
thank you very kindly,” and the young man 
slyly squeezed the servant girl’s hand. 

“ Good-bye, sorr,” she returned, looking after 
him till he disappeared around the corner ;• and 
then she added sotto-voce , “ Oh, but ain’t he the 


A HUNTING EXCURSION . 


149 


ilegant gintleman ! wid eyes like a banshee an’ 
sich a beautiful whishker. 

But if, two minutes later, she could have 
met her “ ilegant gintleman,” she would scarcely 
have recognized him ; for the “ beautiful whish- 
ker ” had been transferred from his chin to his 
pocket. 


150 


THE STOLEN LETTER . 


CHAPTER XIII. 

“ the wicked stand on slippery places.” 

Immediatley after Will Benton had left the 
Pinkerton agency that morning, the chief rang 
a bell upon his desk, and when the messenger 
responded, asked without looking up from the 
instructions he was writing, — 

“ Is the Frenchman in the office ? ” 

“ Just come in, sir,” the boy replied. 

“ Send him to me,” said the chief. And 
a few seconds later, a bright-looking fellow, some 
thirty years of age, made his appearance. 

“ Good morning, Mr. Pinkerton. You sent for 
me ? ” he asked. 

“Yes, Laclaire; I have something right 
in your line. What are you on now ? ” 

“The Van Clump bank case; but I can’t 
do anything further on that till Riley makes 
his report.” 

“ Very well ; then you can go on this case at 
once. It ought not to take you very long. Here 


“ THE WL CKED S TAND ON SLIPPER Y PL A CES. ” 151 

are your instructions ; this is the photograph ; 
and you can report to me personally when you 
get hold of anything. Sit down there and read 
the instructions ; and if there’s anything else 
you want to know, ask me about it.” 

The young detective ran his eye over the in- 
structions, scanned the photograph and conclud- 
ed that nothing further would be required. 

Fifteen minutes later, he emerged into the 
street from the rear door of the building ; the 
very incarnation of a reputable citizen, past the 
meridian of life, but excellently preserved. 

“ First, let us try the hotels,” said he to him- 
self. “ He is well fixed for cash, and would be 
likely to hang out at one of the best, if any. I’ll 
take them as they come ; and first for the Grand 
Pacific. I don’t suppose he’d register under 
his own name, but we might try the books, and 
take a look into the billiard rooms and bars as 
we pass.” 

A stroll through the great hotel opposite the 
Post-Office proved fruitless ; but the instant he 
entered the billiard-room to the Palmer House, 
he saw that his hunt was ended. 

He never even glanced towards his man, 
after catching the first glimpse ; but neverthe- 
less, he noted every move and every expres- 


sion. 


152 


THE STOLEN LETTEB. 


“ Something worrying him,” he reflected ; and 
a moment after, he noted the cause. “ Soho ! 
another spotter on his track, eh ? Well, but 
you are a blooming idiot, my boy ! ” as Benton 
strolled into the rotunda, “ any fool might know 
he’d get away from you. Aha! I thought as 
much,” he continued, when Morton rose to 
leave the room. “ Now I suppose I might as 
well take a hand.” And though Morton was 
utterly unconscious of espial, the respectable old 
settler kept him in sight until the moment he 
entered his boarding house on Dearborn Ave- 
nue ; and some time later, in the guise of a 
census-taker, as we have seen learned his alias 
and the date of his arrival. 

Meanwhile, Benton, terribly chagrined at be- 
ing so easily outwitted, followed his note in 
person to Mr. Pinkerton’s office ; and there ex- 
plained, with much cursing of his stupidity, the 
episode. 

“You had him under your thumb, sure 
enough,” said the detective ; “ but why didn’t 
you address him at once, without waiting to send 
me word ? ” 

“Why, the truth is,” Will replied, “ I want to 
get some information, which he may not care 
to give, and thought it best to have handy the 
means of terrifying him, should he prove balky.” 


“ THE WICKED STAND ON SLIPPERY PLACES.” 153 

“ You should have explained all that in the 
beginning,” said the detective gravely. “ I 
might have saved you some trouble. But now, 
the best thing you can do is to make a clean 
breast of the matter ; and then we’ll be able to 
work to better purpose.” 

Whereupon Will detailed Morton’s history 
from the beginning, and explained the use to be 
made of him. 

“ I think,” said the detective, as Will was 
leaving him for the second time that morn- 
ing, “ you shall hear from me before the day is 
over. Our best man is on the job.” And as 
soon as Will had left the room, he sent word 
to the outer office that Laclaire should be sent 
in the moment he arrived and that he should 
be sent back to the office for additional orders 
by any of the force who might happen to run 
across him. 

But when “ Daddy Slick’ 7 reported, he had 
already fulfilled his commission ; and was sent 
immediately to report in propria persona to 
“ Mr. Charles L. Jones, Toronto,” at the 
Palmer House. 

“ It is my opinion,” said the young detec- 
tive, on completing his report to Mr. Benton, 
in the latter’s private room, “ that you can 
take your time about visiting your friend ; as 


154 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


you so thoroughly terrified him that he will be 
likely to keep close during the next twenty- 
four hours.” 

“ No time like now,” Will exclaimed. “ It 
was just pure luck that you happened to be 
around when I started him off this morning, 
and I don't want to lose him again. Are you 
at liberty ? ” 

“ Certainly, sir, and at your service.” 

“ Then let us drive out to the young gentle- 
man at once, and get through with the business. 
If I’m lucky I may be able to start for Washing- 
ton to-night.” 

Soon after they were rattling out Rush street 
towards Walton Place, where they alighted, tell- 
ing the driver to await their return. Then walk- 
ing around the square to No. 3 19 Dearborn Ave- 
nue, they rang the bell. 

Bridget, who once more answered the ring 
detected in Mr. Laclaire’s features no re- 
semblance to the census-taker who had so 
thoroughly won her fancy a few hours since ; and 
when Will inquired “ Is Mr. Martindale at 
home ? ” answered “ yis sorr,” and asked the 
gentlemen to step into the parlor. 

“ Oh, that’s not necessary. I’m an old acquain- 
tance from his home, and I want to surprise 
him. Can’t you show us up to his room, with- 
out saying anything.” 


“ THE WICKED STAND ON SLIPPERY PLACES.” 155 

Sure ! ” exclaimed the girl, quick to catch, 
in her Irish way, the pleasant side of a trick 
like this — “ jist stip this way, gintlemen, an’ I’ll 
show yez till the dure.” And as she preceded 
them upstairs to the second hall, she sang the 
praises of the “ ilegant an’ foine-mannered 
young gintleman” in no stinted terms Finally 
she left them at the door of Morton’s room. 

After a hurried conversation, carried on in 
whispers, it was decided that Will should enter 
first, and cough loudly if he required assistance 
from Laclaire. 

Benton knocked at the door. 

“ Come in,” sung out a clear voice from within, 
and one instant later, Henry Morton would 
have given one thousand dollars to have been 
away from home at that particular moment ; 
for, in Will Benton he recognized the person 
whose scrutiny had so startled him that morn- 
ing. This seemed a confirmation of his worst 
surmises ; for he made not the slightest question 
that Benton must be a detective in his uncle’s 
employ. 

However, it would have taken a quick eye to 
notice his involuntary start ; for in a second he 
was as calm and unsuspicious in his reception 
as if he had thought Will only an ordinary 
business caller- 


156 


TEE STOLEN LETTER. 


The latter went straight to his point; “Mr. 
Martindale, I believe.” 

“ Yes, that is my name. To what do I owe 
the honor of this visit ? ” 

“ You must kindly excuse my intrusion,” said 
Will, “but I have come from Washington to ask 
a very important favor at your hands. You 
have lived in Washington yourself, I believe, Mr. 
Martindale ? ” 

“ No, sir,” coolly answered the other, you are 
mistaken ; I never was in the city. However, 
in what way can I serve you ? ’’ 

“We might as well talk plainly,” said Will, 
seeing that he should have a difficult task ; “ I 
know perfectly who you are, and but that I 
have lost my beard you would have recogniz- 
ed me. My name is Benton — U. S. Treasury 
department, and you are Henry C. Morton, 
lately connected with the State department. 
I came — ” 

Morton interrupted him with a marvellously 
counterfeited laugh; “ I see ; it is a plain case of 
mistaken identity. As you suggested a moment 
since, my name is Martindale, and as I informed 
you, I have never seen Washington — ” 

“ Hold on, sir,” cried Benton, beginning to 
lose his temper, “ I’m not in a mood to be trifled 
with. I came here to find you, and I have 


u THE WICKED STAND ON SLIPPER Y PL A CES. ’ » 157 

succeeded, even though you are masquerading 
under your uncles name. I came also to obtain 
some information from you ; and by the Lord 
Harry, I'm going to get it, — or you! Now, do 
you understand me, Mr. Morton ? ” 

Morton remained perfectly cool and collected, 
and when Benton finished, merely answered, — 
“ As I have before remarked, sir, it is a case of 
mistaken identity ; and, sir, as you have, of 
course, no business with me under the circum- 
stances, I must ask you to leave, and remind you 
that any longer stay will be trespass.” 

“ Then you persist in your masquerade ? ” 
inquired Benton, threateningly. 

Morton smiled as if compassionating the 
other’s perverse stupidity. 

“ Very well,” the latter exclaimed, “ let us see.” 
He gave the preconcerted signal, and Laclaire 
entered. 

“ This, Mr. Morton, is Mr. Laclaire, one of 
Mr. Pinkerton’s employes. You may have 
heard of Mr. Pinkerton ? Ah! Well, gentlemen, 
now that we are acquainted, it may be well to 
proceed to business. Mr. Laclaire, will you 
kindly read to Mr. Morton the document you 
have in your right hand breast pocket. It may 
interest him.” 

Then Will smilingly leaned back in his chair 


158 


THE STOLEN LETTEti. 


while the detective read a warrant for the arrest 
of Henry C. Morton alias Martindale.” 

When it was finished, the young culprit, cool 
as ever, still insisted that it was a case of mis- 
taken identity. “ Though,” he added, “ I admit 
it is a very curious coincidence that this Mer- 
ton — is that the name ? Oh, yes, Morton ! — 
this Morton should have happened on my name 
for an alias ; very remarkable indeed/' 

And when shown his own photograph he 
would merely admit that the case became more 
and more curiously complicated. 

So cool and determined was he, that he suffer- 
ed himself to be arrested and taken voluntarily 
to the agency for examination, rather than admit 
anything. 

But when he fell into the hands of the Great 
Detective himself, it was a different affair. It 
required but a few moments under those terribly 
searching eyes, and that penetrative voice quiet- 
ly promising to send to Washington for Julius 
Martindale, ‘and to hold the prisoner pending 
his arrival, to make the young scamp squirm 
uneasily and inquire what was wanted of him. 
Then Benton plied his questions, and was soon 
convinced that he had come on a wild-goose 
chase ; for Morton, having been once convinced 
that no harm was intended him, answered freely 


“ THE WICKED STAND ON SLIPPERY PLACES 159 

and honestly. But he knew nothing of the 
stolen letter; and Benton set out for Washing- 
ton on the evening train, thoroughly beaten. 

Meanwhile, however, the agency had gained 
another detective ; for the chief, admiring the 
coolness and mettle of the youngster, made 
a proposition, in which he saw opportunities for 
safety from pursuit, and employment suited 
to his genius ; and to-day there is not among 
Chicago’s many expert detectives a cooler or 
cleverer than he who once bore the name of 
Morton. 


160 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

MRS. GORDON’S ENTERPRISE. 

On the deck of a Potomac steamboat sat 
Harry Lindsay. They were running down 
stream towards Alexandria. Green fields and 
reedy flats lay on either hand, and the crowded 
and smoke-veiled city lay behind. 

With his eyes fixed on the gliding banks, 
Lindsay sat in a half moody, half hopeful 
frame. He was not there without a purpose, 
but was out of spirits at the ill success of the 
search for his unfortunate letter. 

From time to time he looked around among 
the passengers, as if expecting to see a familiar 
face. Yet on each occasion he turned back 
with a disappointed expression. 

“ It looks as if I had been played with,” he mut- 
tered. “ This journey is a sort of wild-goose 
chase.” 

At that moment he was approached by a 
woman dressed like a merchants wife on a 


MRS. GORDON'S ENTERPRISE. 161 

holiday. She held a lunch basket on her arm 
while a vail partly concealed her features. 

“ I hope you may catch your wild-goose,” 
she said, laughingly. 

Lindsay started violently at the sound of the 
voice, sprang to his feet and looked eagerly to- 
wards her. Then he caught her hand in a strong 
grasp. 

“ I hardly dared hope you were in earnest,” 
he cried. “ Come with me, I have a cage for 
my goose. I was in a dreadful way when you 
did not come-” 

“Not quite ready to jump into the slimy 
river, were you ? ” asked the woman, with a laugh. 

“ Maybe I would have thought twice about 
it,” he responded gayly. 

He led the way to the lower deck of the 
boat, and then to a small private room in the 
rear. 

“ I have hired the captain’s office,” he said. 
“We are alone here, without danger of inter- 
ruption.” 

“ I dared not come to your house again, 
and was forced to make this appointment,” she 
said, as she threw up her vail. 

There was revealed the beautiful face of Mrs. 
Gordon. 

“Anywhere!” he cried. “ Anywhere that I 


162 


T1IE STOLEN LETTEtl 


can meet you ! You have made me supremely 
happy, Lucile.” 

He caught her hand and pressed it in rapture 
to his lips. 

She suffered it to lie in his grasp for a min- 
ute, while her eyes grew soft and tender as 
they rested upon his. 

Then she withdrew her hand, while her face 
grew troubled. 

“ There is enough of this,” she cried hastily. 
“ You have no right to speak so, and I have no 
right to listen. ” 

“ Love has its rights, as well as duty,” he 
murmured. 

“ Hush, sir.” She blushed deeply. “ If there 
is more of this I must return to the deck. The 
letter! Where is the letter? That is my object. 
Have you recovered that dangerous epistle 
which you were mad enough to write and I 
was mad enough to read ? ” 

“ No, Lucile. Unfortunately, no. I have 
employed the most skillful of the Washington 
detectives, and bade him use every means, with- 
out regard to expense. He has made a most 
thorough search of Martindale s house and per- 
son. But it has proved fruitless. No trace of 
the letter has been found. 

It must be found ! ” she cried passionately, 


MRS. GORDON'S ENTERPRISE. 


163 


wringing her hands with a distressed air. “ I 
am ruined if it is not. Martindale’s demands 
are growing more severe and insolent. I must 
reveal to him secrets that were given me in the 
strictest confidence by General Gordon. I am 
on the brink of ruin on every side.” “ Why 
not defy him P He will not dare expose his 
perfidy.” 

“ You do not know him,” she replied distrac- 
tedly. “ He is capable of anything. If I refuse 
him that letter will be in General Gordon’s 
hands within three hours. He is a man with- 
out conscience or mercy.” 

“ Then let him give it to General Gordon. 
I will bear whatever consequence flows from it.” 

“You talk wildly,” she exclaimed, her eyes 
fixed on him in terror. “ General Gordon 
would kill you without mercy. As for me, my 
reputation would be ruined. And that is not 
all. Your death, Harry — ” 

Her eyes told the rest. 

The enraptured lover caught her in his 
arms, and would have pressed his lips to hers, 
but she broke in terror from his embrace. 

“ No, no ! ” she cried. “ If I loved you a thous- 
and fold, I cannot and will not forget my duty 
to my husband. No more of this-” She sank 
on a seat with a distracted air. 


164 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


“ Forgive me, Lucile. I will not offend again.’' 

“ I have not told you all,” she resumed. “ It 
is not only State secrets that Martindale de- 
mands. The villain goes further. He professes 
a passion for me. He has dared to make love 
to me. The snake ! The very touch of his hand 
makes me shrink in disgust.” 

“ I will cut his throat,” cried Harry furiously. 

“No, no! Keep clear of him. You must 
recover that letter. That is what I demand 
of you- The detective you have engaged must 
have other resources. Let him try everything. 
He must not hesitate for expenses. Promise 
him fifty thousand — a hundred thousand dollars 
if it be necessary.” 

“ You remind me of my main errand here to- 
day,” replied Harry. “ All hope is not at an 
end. There is a means by which the letter 
may be regained without cost or delay. We 
hold a power over Julius Martindale equal to 
his power over you. This power I propose to 
put into your hands.” 

“What is it?” she cried hopefully. “Tell 
me- I will do anything — anything.” 

“ It is this,” said Harry. “Some of the most 
valuable documents in the State Department 
records are missing. Those records are under 
the sole charge of Martindale. The party who 


MRS. GORDON’S ENTERPRISE. 


165 


stole them has vanished. If their loss be dis- 
covered Martindale is ruined. He can not ex- 
plain it, and cannot return them.” 

“Why?” 

“ Because they are in our hands, and we do 
not intend to give them up for any smaller 
price than that letter.” 

“Thank Heaven, then, there is some hope! 
You have not been idle. But how will you 
act ? What do you propose to do ? ” 

“ The offer has been already made him to 
exchange these documents for the stolen 
letter.” 

“ And what did he say ? Did he agree ? ” 
she eagerly demanded, looking up with sparkling 
eyes. 

“ He refused.” 

“ Then why have you raised false hopes in 
me?” she asked reproachfully. 

“ He had a reason for his refusal. He knew 
the thief, and hoped to catch him and recover 
his plunder. This hope is at an end. The 
thief has escaped. Another effort, rightly made, 
may be more successful.” 

“ Yes, yes ! Let it be made at once. I shall 
not rest an hour until I learn its result ! ” 

“ It is you who are to make it, Lucile,” he re- 
plied, looking at her meaningly. “I have these 


166 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


documents in my possession. I propose to place 
them in your hands. When Martindale next 
calls on you, to renew his insolent demands, 
the power will be yours, not his- You can let 
him know that you possess these papers, and 
demand your letter in exchange.” 

“ But if he refuses ? ” 

“ Threaten to place them in the hands of 
General Gordon, unless the letter is in your 
possession within three hours. Give him no 
longer time. If he has time to act he may 
devise some counter scheme. Let him see 
that you mean what you say.” 

“ You are right,” she responded. “ Give me 
the documents. I will do so. You have done 
well, Harry. I feel as if we are safe at last 
from this terrible danger.” 

“ I have them here,” he replied, thrusting his 
hand into his pocket, and withdrawing a thick 
package. “ Take them, and use them skillfully, 
Lucile. They are precious.” 

A slight shock at this moment showed that 
the boat had reached a stopping-place, and 
struck the landing wharf at Alexandria. 

It threw Mrs. Gordon from her feet, but she 
was caught in the arms of her ready lover. 

“ Shall I not have that kiss now, Lucile ? 
Have I not earned that guerdon?” 


MRS. GORDON’S ENTERPRISE. 167 

“ Not as a lover, then. But as a faithful 
friend.” 

He pressed his lips to the rosy mouth that 
was held up to him. But the kiss was that of a 
lover, not of a friend, and the disguised ladv 
withdrew blushing from his embrace. 

“ That is the first and the last,” she said, in a 
voice that trembled despite its effort to be 
resolute. “ This is a river episode, Harry 
Lindsay. When we touch land the dream is 
at an end.” 

Five minutes more found them on land with 
the stream of hurrying passengers. 

No one would have recognized Mrs. Gordon, 
with her veiled face and plain attire. At her 
request Harry left her. His fashionable dress 
threw suspicion on her character. 

The hope of a long rural walk with the 
woman he loved so warmly was brought to an 
end by her resolution to return at once, by train 
to Washington. 

“ What you desire might be very pleasant to 
you, but would be very dangerous to me,” she 
said. “ This masquerade must be ended as 
soon as possible. I shall cling to these docu- 
ments as precious treasures. I can only hope 
for success.” 

Two hours afterwards found her in her 


168 THE stolen letter. 

palatial home, the disguise discarded and her 
ordinary rich attire resumed. It had been an 
enterprise full of peril to one in her station. If 
she had been recognized, the most awkward con- 
sequences might have followed. She breathed 
freely again when within the silken boundaries 
of her boudoir. 

“ I am eager for my coming contest with 
Martindale,” she declared. “ I shall not be easy 
until that is well over.” 

Yet her enemy seemed in no haste to appear. 
Several days passed, during which he continued 
absent. Mrs- Gordon grew more and more 
nervous and excited as the time passed and her 
uncertainty continued. Her nervousness was 
likely to tell against her in a contest of wits with 
her shrewd foe. 

It was three days after the era of the steam- 
boat ride when Martindale made his appearance 
in her private reception room. 

Mrs. Gordon received him with a forced 
smile on her lips. 

“ I just met General Gordon going out,” said 
the official, with assumed carelessness- “ He 
told me I should find you here, ready for 
visitors.” 

“He was right,” she answered quietly. 

“ Perhaps he would not have thought so if he 
had known the purpose of my visit-” 


MRS. GORDON’S ENTERPRISE. 169 

“ I doubt if that would have troubled General 
Gordon. He has confidence in me.” 

“ We are alike in that respect,” laughed 
Martindale. “ I too have confidence. I am 
confident that you are prepared to give me the 
information promised.” 

“ Not promised, sir.” 

“ Demanded, then.” 

“ The interview need not be protracted on 
that ground. I decline to give . any such in- 
formation.” 

Martindale looked at her in surprise, as she 
spoke these words in firm and decided accents. 
He leaned back in his chair, with a curling lip. 

“ As you will, Mrs. Secretary Gordon,” he said. 
“ You shall have three hours to change your 
mind. If not done by that time a certain letter, 
that you know well of, will be delivered into 
General Gordon s hands. I fancy you know my 
character. I seldom threaten- But my threats 
are never idle words.” 

She sat back in graceful dignity, her eyes fixed 
on him with an expression of mocking triumph 
which he could not understand. 

“ W r e arealike in that respect, Julius Martin- 
dale,” she replied. “ I, too, put my threats into 
execution. I, on my part, give you three hours 
to return that stolen letter to my possession, 


170 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


If not done in that time, certain documents, that 
you know well of, shall be delivered into Gene- 
ral Gordon’s hands.” 

“ Documents ? What documents ? ” he cried 
hastily- “ I do not understand you, Mrs. Gor- 
don.” 

“ Perhaps I can make my meaning clear. 
I refer to four important documents which 
were recently stolen from the record room of 
the Department of State. No one has access 
to these records except Julius Martin dale. If 
the fact that any of them have been lost through 
his carelessness is made public, his career as a 
government official will cease. And it is quite 
possible that worse consequences may ensue.” 

Martindale seemed to have received a shock. 

He gasped slightly, and there was a trouble 
in his eyes which he could not conceal. 

“ I do not understand to what you refer,” 
he remarked, in a faltering accent. 

“ I am sorry for your lack of understanding,” 
was the mocking reply. “ I will say, further, 
that those documents are in my possession at 
this moment, and that unless the letter be re- 
turned within the specified time they shall, with- 
out failure or hesitation, be placed in General 
Gordon’s hands.” 

Mrs- Gordon never looked more beauti- 


MRS. GORDON’S ENTERPRISE. 171 

ful than at that moment of triumph over her 
foe. There was a light in her eyes and a satiric 
smile on her lips that gave her face a new 
meaning. 

Yet she failed to read the look of cunning 
that came into her antagonist’s face. 

He sprang to his feet as she ended, with an 
assumed excitement and incredulity. 

“ This is ridiculous, madame ! ” he cried. 
“ You cannot impose on me by any such weak 
device. It is impossible that you should have 
any such documents. Impossible, I say, from 
the fact that no such documents have been 
lost. Whoever has put you up to this ridiculous 
scheme has been playing with you. Your arrow 
has fallen and missed its mark, Mrs. Gordon,” 
he continued, with an incredulous smile- “ I 
think we had better bring this interview to an 
end. You have my last word- Unless you give 
me the required information within three hours 
the letter goes to General Gordon.” 

He turned on his heel and walked with a 
steady step to the door, which he opened and 
passed through without hesitation. 

His assurance had been so well assumed 
as to throw Mrs. Gordon into a quandary. It 
struck her that perhaps he really was not aware 
of the loss of the documents. She could con- 
vince him of this, at any rate, 


172 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


Her nervousness and excitement told against 
her here. She was in no mood for calm think- 
ing. In an instant she had sprung impulsively 
to her feet, and called him back. 

“Stay! One moment, Mr. Martindale. You 
doubt my word. I will prove to you that I 
am not speaking at random. Here! You shall 
see the documents.” 

He turned back as she spoke, driving from 
his lip its cunning smile, and putting on an 
air of grave doubt- 

The excited lady swept across the room 
to a cabinet, opened it with a key which she 
took from her pocket, and touched a spring 
within that revealed a secret drawer. 

Within this lay a parcel of folded papers, 
which she drew out- 

He stood resting on the back of a chair, 
in a listless attitude, with doubt strongly 
marked on his face. 

“ Very prettily played, Mrs. Gordon/’ he 
laughed provokingly. “ I had no idea you 
were such a charming and skilful actress.” 

His satire increased her excitement. For 
the moment she had lost her usual judgment. 

“You doubt me, then? See here! And 
here ! Read the heading of that paper ! Do 
you doubt me now ? ” 


M RS. GORDON'S ENTERPRISE. 173 

He bent forward, as if to read the head lines of 
the document which she had partly unfolded 
and held towards him.” 

In her nervous haste to convince him she did 
not dream of his actual intention. 

In an instant, with the spring of a tiger, he 
was beside her. One hand caught her wrist 
in an iron grasp. The other wrenched the 
papers from her hold. 

It had all passed with lightning speed. Ere 
she hardly knew what had occurred, Martindale 
stood opposite her, tightly clasping the valuable 
documents, his face full of triumphant malice. 

“ So Mrs. Gordon has been robbing the De- 
partment of State ! ” he cried. “ Luckily I have 
recovered the stolen papers. I shall take care 
to restore them at once to the record room.” 

“ Give them to me,” she cried passionately, 
springing forward and striving to tear them 
from his grasp. 

He held them beyond her reach. 

“ Proceed, my dear madame,” he said mock- 
ingly. “ This is the embrace I have so long 
desired from those beautiful arms. 

She recoiled at his words. 

“ Return them,” she exclaimed furiously, “ or 
I will rouse the house and have them torn from 
your hands by the servants.” 


174 


VM STOLEN LETTER. 


“ Do so, madame. I should like an oppof- 
tunity to tell them of Mrs. Gordon’s steamboat 
ride in disguise, in company with her lover.” 

She stared at him with wide-open eyes. Then 
reeling, she turned and fell half fainting on the 
luxurious sofa behind her. 

“ All is lost ” came in gurgling accents from 
her lips. 

Martindale stood looking down on her as a 
fiend might look on his victim. 


A LESSON FOR A DETECTIVE. 


175 


CHAPTER XV. 

A LESSON FOR A DETECTIVE. 

• It was an excited party that met in Harry 
Lindsay’s apartments several days after the 
occurrences just narrated. 

There were four persons present, Lindsay 
himself, Frank Sharp the detective, and Will 
Benton, while Mrs. Gordon formed the fourth 
member of the party. 

She had come, as before, heavily vailed, and 
wrapped in a disguising cloak, which she had 
thrown aside, revealing her rich attire beneath. 

The excitement however, did not extend to 
one member of the party. Will Benton was 
perfectly cool, despite the intense conversation 
which had been going on about him. . He oc- 
cupied a reclining window seat, where he quietly 
smoked a cigarette, indolently listening. 

“ I can blame no one but myself ! ” cried 
Mrs. Gordon, in a distracted manner. “ I suffer- 
ed him, in a moment of insane excitement, to 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


cheat me by his base duplicity- I have lost 
the hold which you gave me over him, and de- 
serve to suffer for my folly.” 

“ The base hound ! ” exclaimed Harry starting 
up in a fury. “ By Heaven, he shall not profit 
by his villainy ! I will kill him ! I will shoot 
him as I would a dog 1 ” 

“ No, no ! I cannot listen to such madness. I 
am at his mercy and must remain so, unless 
some other means can be found for recovering 
that fatal letter-” 

“ Tell me,” she continued, turning pleadingly 
to the detective. “ Have you done all that can 
be done ? Have you exhausted every method ? 
Is there no hope ? I will make you rich if 
you return me that letter-” 

“ I should be glad to do so without pay, re- 
joined the detective earnestly. “ Of course 
there is always hope. Yet our search has 
been most thorough. Not only Martindale’s 
house, but his room and desk in the Department 
Offices have been thoroughly examined. He is 
not the man to trust in any one, yet we have 
searched the houses of his intimate friends. 
Every place where there seems any chance 
that he has hidden it has been examined, and 
all in vain-” 

“ Then all is at an end ! I am indeed lost!” 


A LESSON FOB A DETECTIVE. 177 

She sank back on a sofa, too overcome with 
despair to remain standing. 

Lindsay and the detective gazed on her in 
a sort of distraction, as if not knowing what to 
do or to say. 

Yet Will Benton continued to smoke as 
calmly as before. One would have sworn he 
was a man without a heart. 

“You are alive and in health, Mrs. Gordon,’’ 
he quietly remarked. It is impossible that all 
can be lost to a person alive and in health.” 

She turned hastily to him. 

“ What can I do ? ” she cried. “ Tell me 
what I can do ? ” 

“ Martindale asks you to reveal to him govern- 
ment secrets ? ” asked Will, taking the cigarette 
from his lips, and sending the smoke gracefully 
upwards. 

“ Yes, yes! And I dare not refuse !” 

“ It is his purpose to use these secrets on the 
stock board, or to so handle them as to advance 
him to a higher position ? ” 

“ Undoubtedly.” 

“ Very well. My advice is that you give 
him false information. He hopes to make 
himself rich and great by your aid. Give him 
such information that if he attempts to use it 
he will be ruined.” 


12 


178 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


They all looked at him in surprise, as he 
quietly offered this seemingly useless advice. 

“ Ruin him ? It would ruin me ! He would 
take extreme measures in his fury.” 

“ What could he do ? ” 

“ He could hand that letter to my husband- 
That would suffice to destroy me-’' 

“ I fancy not,” said Will, returning the ciga- 
rette to his lips. 

“Why? What do you mean? You speak 
in riddles,” she gasped- 

“ You are talking confounded nonsense, Will 
Benton,” cried Harry, angrily. 

The detective said nothing. But his eyes 
were fixed on the speaker as if he felt that there 
was more behind all this than appeared on the 
surface- 

Will fell back into an easier attitude than 
ever. He sent up a puff of smoke which he 
quietly watched as it curled in wreaths towards 
the ceiling. 

“ How much did you say you would give for 
that letter ? ” he lazily asked- 

“ Any sum you demand. Two hundred and 
fifty thousand dollars if no less will do ” 

“ The half of it will satisfy my utmost aspira- 
tions,” rejoined Will, with provoking careless- 
ness. 


A LESSON FOli'A DETECTIVE. 179 

Lindsay, angered beyond endurance, caught 
him by the shoulder and shook him soundly. 

“ What are you up to ? ” he cried. “ By Jove, I 
am half inclined to fling you out of the win- 
dow.” 

“ I don’t believe you have the muscle, Harry 
answered Will, in the same indolent tone- 

“ What does all this mean?” demanded the 
detective, now first speaking. “ Have you learn- 
ed anything? Are you on the track of that 
letter ? Can you give me a hint as to where 
and how to find it ? ” 

“ Quite likely I might give you a point,” 
rejoined Will. 

Mrs. Gordon sprang up, and hastened eagerly 
across the room, her eyes sparkling with hope 
and excitement: 

“ Oh Mr. Benton, if you can do anything I 
shall bless you forever. You do not know 
how terribly I have suffered from this dreadful 
uncertainty.” 

“ I don’t profess to be a detective,” answered 
Will. “ But I might be able to give this gentle- 
man a hint or two in his business. That he 
has made an energetic search for the letter I 
am satisfied. But not much is to be found by 
hunting on the wrong track.” 

The detective frowned at this rebuke. 


180 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


“ On the wrong track ! ” he cried. “ Are you 
ready then to put me on the right one ? I don’t 
profess to be proof against mistakes-” 

“ Sit down,” said Will. “ We can talk better 
sitting than standing.” 

He threw away his cigarette, and straighten- 
ed himself in his chair, as the others drew up 
seats, and gathered eagerly around him. 

“ I mean what I have said,” began Will } 
looking at the detective. “ You have made a 
mistake, and that mistake has made all your 
work useless-” 

“ It may be possible- It would not be my 
first one.” 

“ Shall I tell you in what that mistake con- 
sists ? ” 

“ Certainly.” 

“ There are stock ways of doing all things. 
Even detectives have their stock methods- But 
average plans are only suited to average peo- 
ple- You can’t fit a square plug in a round 
hole. When dealing with a man out of the 
average the method should be suited to the man. 

“ Then my mistake is in not studying the 
character of Julius Martindale?” 

“ That is what I mean. It was not wise to 
suppose a man of his shrewd cunning would 
act like any ordinary man. He knew exactly 


A LESSON FOE A DETECTIVE. 181 

what the police would do, and knew just how 
to cheat them.” 

Mr. Sharp opened his eyes, but said noth- 
ing. He was beginning to perceive that the 
speaker was not quite a fool. 

“Do you fancy that what you have done 
has been unknown to him?” continued Will. 
u When he was robbed by footpads in the street 
he knew very well who those footpads were, 
and what they wanted- His trip to Canada 
was not made only to overtake his nephew. It 
was to give you a free field for your search.” 

“ Do you know this ? ” 

“ I do. I have not been idle. I know that he 
has had agents to observe every movement of 
the police.” 

“ Then what has he done with the letter ? ” 
broke in Mrs. Gordon. “ Has he sent it out of 
the city ? ” 

“ No. It was necessary that he should keep it 
within reach.” 

“ Has he destroyed it ? ’’ asked Harry. 

“ That would put it still further out of reach.” 

“ Then where is it ? ” demanded the detec- 
tive. 

“ There are more ways than one of hiding 
a letter,” rejoined Will quietly. “ Sometimes a 
thing is best hidden when it is most in sight,” 


182 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


“ Ah ! Is that your idea ? ” 

“ When every possible and impossible hiding 
place is likely to be searched, a wise man will 
not try to hide his treasures. That letter would 
have been safer thrown loosely on a table among 
other papers than hidden in the securest cor- 
ner of Marti ndale’s house. A heap of loose, 
exposed papers is the last place you would 
think of searching.” 

“ Not exactly,” replied the detective, with a 
confident smile. “ I fancy there were no prob- 
able or improbable places in Martindale’s 
house that escaped scrutiny. I hardly think I 
could be taken in by any such transparent arti- 
fice.” 

“ Then I have misjudged you,” rejoined Will, 
as he coolly drew another cigarette from his 
pocket. 

Mrs. Gordon, who had been leaning forward 
with clapped hands and open lips, full of hope 
and eagerness, fell back at these words, with a 
return of despair. 

It looked as if Will had been playing with 
them. 

“ Do you object to cigarette smoke, Mrs. 
Gordon ? ” he asked. “ I have the bad fashion 
that I cannot talk business without smoke,” 


A LESSON FOE A DETECTIVE. 183 

“ It looks as if your business was all smoke,” 
cried Harry angrily. 

“ Can I ask you to help me to a light, my 
boy ? Here, you can use this bit of paper.” 

He drew from his pocket a piece of soiled 
writing paper, twisted up into the form of a 
cigar lighter. 

This he handed to Harry, who took it grum- 
blingly. He was in no sweet temper, and only 
that he had to be polite in his own house, he 
would have felt decidedly like kicking Will 
Benton down stairs- 

“ If you have nothing better to tell us you 
might finish your smoking in the street, and not 
before a lady,” grumbled Harry, as he rose re- 
luctantly. ' 

“ Perhaps you are right,” replied Will, with 
unshaken indifference. “ And, by the way, I 
may be burning something of importance. Can 
I trouble you to open that paper and look at it 
before you set it on fire ? ” 

Harry did so in an angry fashion- He felt 
that he was being made a fool of by his non- 
chalant friend. 

Yet, if he had been suddenly turned into 
stone by the eyes of a basilisk, he could not 
have fallen into a more rigid attitude than when 
his eyes fell upon that unfolded sheet. 


184 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


With open mouth and staring eyes, and a 
face suffused with blood, he stood glaring upon 
it as if he would never move again. 

Mrs. Gordon and the detective sprang up in 
alarm. Will sat unmoved, with a smile of 
amusement on his lips* 

“ This I ” cried Harry, suddenly breaking from 
his rigid state. “ This 1 where ? what ? Good 
heavens, how did you ? — ” 

Words failed him, and he sprang forward 
and glared eagerly into his friend’s smiling face, 
while he pointed with trembling finger, to the 
unfolded sheet. 

“ What can it be ? ” exclaimed Mrs- Gor- 
don, springing forward and snatching the paper 
from his quivering hand. 

The instant her eyes fell on it she grew 
deathly pale, and tottered back- The arm of 
the detective was quickly advanced to save her 
from falling. 

“ What means this scene ? Is that the stolen 
letter? ” he demanded, in a tone of excitement 
unusual to him. 

“Yes! By some extraordinary means it has 
been recovered ! How, I cannot imagine ! But 
you have saved me, Mr. Benton. I owe you 
my eternal gratitude.” 

The overjoyed and impulsive woman sprang 


A LESSON FOR A DETECTIVE. 


185 


forward and seized both Will’s hands in hers 
pressing them to her heart in a fervor of emo- 
tion. 

“ Your gratitude, and one hundred and twenty- 
live thousand dollars, Mrs. Gordon,” he placidly 
remarked. 

“ But how — where — in what strange way did 
you get it ? ” demanded Harry. 

“ Do you recognize the handwriting ? ” 

“ Yes. It is my letter ! It is that letter I was 
idiot enough to write and send.” Mrs- Gor- 
don’s eyes turned to the speaker with a look 
that filled the impulsive fellow with happi- 
ness. 

“ Well, then, you don’t object to bring me a 
light for my cigarette? and to use that piece 
of paper for the purpose? ” 

Catching the idea Harry instantly sprang 
to obey. In a minute he brought the dangerous 
letter, rolled up and blazing, and passed it to 
his friend with a trembling hand- 

Will coolly lighted his cigarette, and then 
continued to hold the paper while the flame 
quickly crept up its folds- Only when a mere 
pinch remained between his fingers did he 
drop it on the hearth, where it continued to 
burn. 

“ You are free now, Mrs. Gordon,” he said. 


186 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


“ Your enemy has played and lost. The winning 
cards are in your hand/’ 

“ Can I ever thank you enough ? ” cried 
the happy and delighted woman, her eyes beam- 
ing with liquid light- “ As for this gentleman," 
turning to the detective, “ the fee offered him 
for his services shall be paid. He has well 
earned it.” 

“ I am responsible for that,” remarked Harry. 
“ The offer was mine-” 

“Will Mr- Benton finish his story ?” asked 
the detective. “ He has a lesson in my business 
for me which may be as much value to me as 
the 'money promised.” 

“Your failure was my success,” replied Will- 
“ I only took up the work where you left 
off. I knew what you had done, and set my 
wits to work to see if I could not improve 
upon it ; of course, I did not imagine that you 
would let any loose papers escape you. But 
there was the chance of a studied carelessness 
that would deceive even you. On that chance 
I worked.” 

“ And succeeded ? ” 

“ Well, you have the results- They were 
obtained in the following manner : First, learn- 
ing that you had not made full use of young 
Morton in obtaining possible clues, I secured a 


A LESSON FOR A DETECTIVE. 1ST 

photograph of him, and followed up his track 
to Detroit, where, you remember, he slipped 
through Martindale’s fingers. From certain 
clues gathered here, and my knowledge of 
the man — ” 

“ Then you were acquainted with him ? ” 
exclaimed the detective. 

“ Casually only. I had met him possibly half 
a dozen times, in the club rooms, at the George- 
town races, and once or twice at receptions. 
Besides, I used to run across him now and then 
in the corridors of the Treasury building, where 
I am employed. 

“ Well, as I was saying, I once heard him 
speak of the chances a young man might have 
in Chicago ; and as the game was worth the 
candle, I went on to that city, in the hope of 
running him down. You remember, I was 
gone about two weeks? ” — turning to Harry. 

“ Yes, I do ; and I remember I thought you 
most infernally cool, leaving a friend in such a 
fix as I was, to go off hunting, as you led me to 
think you were doing-” 

Benton laughed easily. “ Well, that’s neither 
here nor there- I had a little scheme of my 
own, and if it worked, well and good, if not, 
no one except myself should feel the worse for 
my failure.” 

4 ‘ Dear old boy ! Lindsay began— 


188 THE stolen letter. 

“ Stow that, old man ! ” cried Will, “ and 
let me spin my yarn.” 

“ I went to Chicago ; and inside of ten hours 
after landing, by the help of one of Allan Pinker- 
ton's finest, and the photo I had cribbed 
from Martindale’s album, I ran my fox to earth." * 

“ And you got him to squeal ! ” exclaimed 
the detective, with the air of one who has read 
a disgustingly simple riddle. 

“ Not 1 1 ” Will replied, taking a few desultory 
puffs at his cigarette. “ He was mightily frigh- 
tened, and would have revealed anything to be 
let alone, but he knew nothing of the letter, 
and I returned as wise as I went, and as empty 
handed. There wasn’t a smeli of game in that 
forest,” with a quiet smile. 

“Well, well,” exclaimed Lindsay, disgusted 
with the length and purposelessness of the re- 
cital, “ come to the point, can’t you ! How did 
you stumble on to the letter ? ” 

“ Patience, patience, my little man ; who’s 
telling this story anyway ? ” he asked coolly. 

“ And I may remark, in passing, that my stum- 
ble as you are pleased to call it, was a con- 
foundedly lucky one for your serenely impatient 
highness ! 

“ On my return, I found a second excuse to 
go with a message to Martindale’s house, at a 


A LESSON FOR A DETECTIVE. 189 

time when I knew him to be absent. I awaited 
his return, and used my eyes there freely, but 
in vain. The indications I looked for did not 
exist. I next visited him in his office, on a plea 
of official business. While he was writing the 
paper I needed, I was using my eyes. One 
thing attracted me. There was a shelf in front 
of his desk, covered with folded papers, that had 
on them a year’s dust.” 

“ I studied those papers,” said the detective- 
“ They had evidently not been recently dis- 
turbed.” 

“ Just in front of them was a vase, containing 
a half-dozen twisted cigar lighters, some of 
them partly burned, as if they had been already 
used” 

The detective opened his eyes- 

“ I may make a long story short,” continu- 
ed the speaker. “ I fixed my affections on that 
vase at sight. It was the most careless and obtru- 
sive object in house or office, and that was 
what I had been seeking. I took occasion to 
return in Mr- Martindale’s absence. One min- 
ute sufficed me to seize and untwist the cigar 
lighters in the vase. The second I took hold 
of was the brownest and most begrimed of them 
all. A single glance was enough. I had the 
stolen letter.” 


190 


TEE STOLEN LETTER. 


“ By Jove, that vase was the only thing I pass- 
ed by,” exclaimed the intensely interested de- 
tective, with a look of deep chagrin. “ You 
have beaten me at my own business. What 
next, Mr. Benton ? That is not all ? ” 

“ No- I had something else in view. I had 
taken care to prepare a closely similar light- 
er, which I placed in the vase. When I left 
it there was no sign that it had been disturbed.” 

“ I cannot see what was to be gained by this/’ 
remarked Mrs- Gordon in surprise- “ What 
need we care how soon he discovers his loss ? ” 
“ Because he sought to make you his victim. 
You must make him yours ! He will return to 
you for the government secrets demanded. 
Give them to him, and let him ruin himself in 
using them-” 

“ Ah ! I begin to perceive your meaning. 
That was what you meant when you advised 
me to give him false information ? You wish 
to lure him to destruction ? ” 

‘‘You have my idea precisely. Take your 
seats, gentlemen. I fancy that we are shrewd 
enough to dig a pitfall that it will ruin Martin- 
dale to fall into. He deserves it, and we should 
deal with him without pity.” 

An hour of earnest conference succeeded. 
When Mrs- Gordon left she had her plan of 
action fully in hand. 


THE FOX IN THE THAN. 


191 


CHAPTER XVI. 

THE FOX IN THE TRAP. 

On the day succeeding the important inter- 
view described in the last chapter Julius Mar- 
tindale left General Gordon’s house, at a late 
hour in the afternoon with a face full of hope 
and triumph. 

Mrs. Gordon, with much seeming reluctance, 
and as if every word had been drawn from her 
by sheer force, had put him in possession of 
the government secrets demanded. 

“ This is but the beginning,” he muttered to 
himself triumphantly. “ I shall risk all my fort- 
une in the stocks on this information. I am 
sure to win. And the position I have been 
working for in the Treasury Department is mine. 
They dare not refuse me* 

Yet, I hope, my fine Madame Secretary 
Gordon does not fancy this will silence me. 
There is no secret of the government which Gen- 
eral Gordon does not know. All these secrets 


192 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


shall be mine. If I play my cards well I am safe 
for any position I may fancy, and millions of 
wealth. 

“ And that is not all. I am bound to win that 
proud lady for my own. She dare not refuse 
any favor I may dare to ask. She is my slave, 
body and soul, while I hold the secret of the 
letter over her head.” 

He went to his office, swelling with pride- 
Plans for the morrow's operations were to be 
laid. He was so sure of victory that not a mo- 
ment’s hesitation checked his movements- 

The next day certain prominent brokers were 
much surprised by the magnitude of purchases 
made in a certain stock by the agent of a per- 
son unknown to them- 

Through the hands of two or three of these 
operators five hundred thousand dollars were 
put up on margin. 

Julius Martindale had dared in one great 
venture the fortune which he had scraped to- 
gether by years of trickery and double dealing. 

He had no doubts of the result. The secret 
information he possessed could not fail to send 
that stock up with a boom. The advance he 
hoped for was bound to make him the owner 
of five million dollars. 

Yet the next day and for several succeeding 


THE FOX IN THE TRAP. 


193 


days, the stock moved downwards. The shrewd 
operator smiled, and scraped up money to pro- 
tect his margins. The plans of the govern- 
ment would be made public in a day or two 
moie, and the turn in prices which was to make 
him rich could not long be delayed. 

At the same time he was manipulating his 
secret knowledge to win the coveted place in 
the Treasury Department. 

Two days more passed. Then there came 
demands thro-ugh his agent for more funds to 
protect his margins- The stock had suffered 
a sudden and sharp decline. 

In astonishment Martindale hurried tip town. 
It was the day the government policy was to be 
made public. What did this mean ? He read a 
private despatch that lay on his desk in the 
office. 

And then he fell to the floor as if he had 
been shot. 

The government policy had been announced, 
and it was the very opposite of that of which 
he had been informed. Stocks were sure to go 
down with a rush, and particularly the one in 
which he had bought so largely. 

He was a ruined man ! 

Before two hours word came to him that 

his advances had been absorbed to cover his 
13 


194 


THE STOLEN LETTER. 


contracts- Every cent he owned in the world 
was swept away- 

And before the day was over a letter from 
the higher authorities reached his hands, dis- 
missing him from his official position, on the 
charge of his falsely pretending to possess 
government secrets- 

The man was crushed. For an hour he sat 
as if dazed, without a motion of hand or foot. 

Then he sprang to his feet in a torrent of rage. 

“ If there is nothing: else there is revenue ! ” 
he hissed with tigerish fury. “ She has deceived 
me to my ruin. By Heaven she shall be bit- 
terly repaid for her perfidy ! ” 

He seized with an eager hand the seeming: 
cigar-iightcr from the vase before him, and 
must it into his pocket with spiteful haste. 

“ We shall see who wins, m.idame,” he 
furiously exclaimed as he hastened away. 

An hour afterwards found him in Mrs. Gor- 
don s boudoir. He was threatening her in a bit- 
ter concentration of rage. Yet she sat in digni- 
fied calm, with a smile of disdain on her beauti- 
ful features- 

“ I must say I do not understand you, Mr. 
Martindale. Secrets? What secrets? You talk 
in riddles, sir.” 

“We shall see, madame. By all that’s good, 


THE FOX IX THE TRAP. 


195 


I'll bend your proud spirit to the earth ! Do 
you hear me, Mrs. Gordon ? Before the hour is 
over there shall be that in the hands of your 
husband that will bring you to utter shame be- 
fore the world. I swear it, and I will perform 
it! 

” Do your worst, villain ! I do not know 
what base scheme you' have in view, but I defy 
you with the scorn of virtue and innocence-” 

“ You do right, Mrs. Gordon ! ” spoke a stern 
voice behind them. “ And this man shall answer 
to me for the threats which he has dared to 
utter.” 

They both turned in surprise- During the 
altercation General Gordon had entered unseen 
and unheard. 

For a moment Martindale was taken aback- 
Then he recovered his assurance with a return 
of his rage. 

“ Perhaps you may change your mind, General 
Gordon, ’’ he said, with bitter satire- “I am 
sorry to be obliged to tell you that you are 
deceived in this virtuous wife of yours. You 
may not be aware that she has a lover, with 
whom she holds correspondence unknown to 
you. I feel it my duty as a friend to tell you 
this.” General Gordon’s brow grew black as a 
thundercloud. He turned to his wife with the 


196 


THE STOLEN LETT Ell 


look of an Othello. But she bore his glare of 
jealous doubt with a face of unmoved serenity. 

“ Ask this gentleman to prove his words,” she 
said. General Gordon turned fiercely to Martin- 
dale. 

“Do you hear?” he cried- “Prove what 
you have said ! If you have lied to me I will 
tear you limb from limb ! I swear it, by all the 
gods ! ” 

“ Here is the proof ! ” cried Martindale, snatch- 
ing the rolled up sheet from his pocket and 
hastily unfolding it. “Read what is written 
here, and you will not say again that Julius 
Martindale is a liar, a fool or a villain.” 

General Gordon snatched the sheet from his 
hand, that trembled with suppressed passion. 

He ran his eye hastily over its contents, and 
then looked up at the man before him as one 
might gaze on an idiot. 

For a moment this gaze continued, while 
Martindale grew red as blood in the face. 

Then General Gordon broke out into a laugh 
of bitter scorn. 

“ I do not agree with you,” he said. “ If I 
believe this letter I must declare that Julius 
Martindale is a liar , a fool and a villain , for 
I find nothing else written here.” 

“You lie, by heaven!” cried Martindale, 


THE FOX IN THE TRAP. 


197 


insane with rage, as he snatched the letter 
madly from General Gordon’s hand. 

He ran his eye hastily over it, and then 
dropped it with a yell of dismay. 

“ Baffled ! ” he cried. “ Fooled ! cheated 1 Let 
me go ! I am sick ! ” 

He staggered and groped blindly as he made 
his way towards the door. 

But before he had reached it General Gordon’s 
hand was on his shoulder, with an iron grip. 

“ Not so fast,” he hissed out. “ You have 
insulted and threatened my wife, and given 
me the lie. There is but one answer to such 
insults. You shall fight me, if you have the 
spirit of a man.” 

Martindale was no coward, and he faced 
the incensed old soldier with some return of 
spirit. 

“ As you will, sir. And when and where you 
will. I am ready.” 

With these words he left the room, in haste 
to remove himself from the eyes of those before 
whom he had played such an ignoble part. 

“ 1 will kill him!” ’he hissed. “And I will 
yet disgrace her ! They shall find the kind of 
man they have to deal with. I have not yet 
played my last card.” 

He was as good as his word in one particular. 


198 


THE STOLEN LETTER . 


Late in the next afternoon the two enemies, - 
with their seconds, met in a secluded spot near 
the banks of the Potomac. 

Pistol shots were exchanged with unusually 
fatal results. 

The villains threat to kill General Gordon 
was achieved. The officer fell dead, with a 
bullet through his heart. 

But Martindale fared no better. He fell 
mortally wounded, and died from loss of blood 
before he could be removed from the ground. 

The drama had been brought to a fatal and a 
bloody end. 

And our story may be brought to almost as 
sudden a close, for we have but little more to 
tell. 

Most of our characters disappear at once 
from the stage. Of Tom Bruce and Slippery 
Joe we have nothing further to say. Their 
later exploits must be sought in the annals of 
the Washington police. 

Frank Sharp, the detective, accepted the 
promised fee, though he felt that he had not 
fully earned it. He still performs the duties of 
his profession in the city of Washington. 

Will Benton, whose means were limited, has 
been made easy by the hundred and twenty-five 
thousand dollars promised by Mrs. Gordon. He 


THE FOX IN THE TRAP. 


199 


has not since gone into the detective business. 
He has not been spoiled, like so many men, by 
one success. 

As for our two remaining characters, Harry 
Lindsay and Mrs. Gordon, their story is quickly 
told. 

It must be said that the lady deeply mourned * 
the death of her husband, who, despite his 
frequent harshness and jealousy, had died . to 
preserve her good name. 

Yet Harry Lindsay’s ardent suit, and her 
scarcely disguised affection for him, could not 
but have their natural result in time. 

Three years after the death of General Gor- 
don, their hands were joined in marriage, and 
they are now one of the happiest and most 
loving couples in America. 

And so we drop the curtain on our drama 
of the Stolen Letter, and leave our characters 
to the hand of time. 


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South America, mounted on rollers, 65 x 58 inches 17 50 

South America, in two sheets, 21 x 14 inches, showing plans of Bay of Rio de 

Janeiro, Isthmus of Panama and City of Buenos Ayres., 75 

Spain and Portugal, with plans of Madrid and Lisbon, 21 x 14 inches 50 

Sweden and Norway. 21 xl4 inches 50 

Switzerland, 21 x l-l inches 50 

Turkey in Asia (Asia Minor), and Transcaucasia, 21 x 14 inches 50 

Turkey in Europe, 21 x 14 inches 50 

World, on Mercator’s Projection, 21x14 inches 50 


All of above pocket Maps are neatly bound in cloth cases. 

We make the production ol maps a specialty, and keep the largest stock of map 
plates in the country. Are prepared to furnish Authors and Publishers with maps 
to illustrate Books of Travel and Historical and Educational Works at a merely 
nominal charge over the cost of paper and printing. 

Maps which require to be specially prepared, are compiled, engraved and printed 
with the utmost care and accuracy. 

A full line of Maps of the States and Territories in TJ. S. and of Foreign countries, 
on a large scale : also, of Modern Geographical, Classical, Political, Physical, 
Astronomical, Biblical, Anatomical and Biological Atlases, Globes and Map Racks, 
kept in stock. 

BAND. McNALLY & CO., Publishers, Chicago, 


Napoleon and Marie-Louise 

^ OivdlE^vdZOI^, 

— BY — 

MADAME LA GENERALE DURAND, 

First Lady to the Empress Marie-Louise, 

(1810 to 1814.) 


12 mo, 266 pages. Price, in beautiful paper covers, 35 cents ; 
in doth, with gold title and ornamental gold and 
black side stamp, 7 5 cents . 


OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 

“ So much fiction has been written of Napoleon, and so much fact has been 
repressed, that he is regarded on the one hand as an incarnate fiend, and on the 
other as a demi-god. Here, at last, is a writer who knew the man as a man ; who 
lived in the household with him, and saw him continually at his best and at his 
worst ; and she is such a delightful gossip that she does not in the least hesitate 
to tell what she knows and how she came to know it."— Hartford Times. 

“ It is a piquant and spicy volume, and exhibits Napoleon as the author saw 
him at home, sometimes at his worst and sometimes at his best.”— Chicago Evening 
Journal. 

“ Madame Durand gives a picture of four years of the home life of the first 
Napoleon, which shows him to have been a rather moody man, good to his wife, 
and not above enjoying a practical joke now and then. The book is written in an 
entertaining, gossipy style .”— Cleveland Plain-Dealer. 

“ Her opportunities for observing the Emperor, merely as a man in his own 
home, were of the best. The book is that of a dolightful gossip .”— Cincinnati 
Enquirer. 

“ Her anecdotes have the flavor of authentic court gossip. * * * .The book 
will undoubtedly be received with great interest .”— Milwaukee Evening Wisconsin. 

“ Whoever found delight in the Memoir of Mme. de Remusat will be amused 
by this .”— Philadelphia Press. 

“One of the most interesting books of the memoir description. * * * The 
book is very readable, as Madame Durand kept her eyes and ears open during her 
imperial connection.”— St. Paul Pioneer Press. 

Published by 

NEW YOBK OFFICE, RAND, McNALLY &, CO., 

323 BROADWAY, 148 to 154- Monroe St., CHICAGO. 


I 


NEW EDITION OF. JOHNSTON’S 



On Mercator's Projection— Size 72x56 inches. 


3?rice, Mounted on Muslin, with Rollers, - $15.00. 


This well-known and valuable work, of which many thousand copies have been 

E nrchased by the principal mercantile establishments of America and Europe, 
as, in accordance with the rapid progress of geographical science, been thoroughly 
revised and corrected up to the present date. 

It exhibits the most recent changes in political boundaries. In Europe, the 
alterations made by the Treaty of Berlin, the extension of the hew German 
Empire by recent accession from France and Denmark, and the United Kingdom 
of Italy. In Asia, the encroachments of Russia on the Chinese territory, in the 
basin of the Amur, and in Turkestan ; the limits of British territory in India, and 
the French Colony of Lower Cochin-China. In Africa, Speke, Grant., and Baker’s 
discoveries in the lake districts, ant}, more recently, tbe explorations of Living- 
stone, Cameron, and Stanley in Central Africa. In America, the limits of the 
Dominion of Canada, with all the new territories of the United States. In Aus- 
tralasia, the most recent discoveries in the interior of Australia and New 
Guinea, and the new British colony of the Fiji Islands. 

Besides the information usually given in a Chant of the World , this Map contains 

the following:— 

1. ENLARGED MAP OF EUROPE, showing in colors the limits of the new German 
Empire, the Railways and Canals of Continental States, and the relative importance of the 
principal towns. 

2. ENLARGED MAPS OF THE COLONIES of New South Wales and Victoria, the Cape 
Colony and Malta; the Railway across the Isthmus of Panama, the proposed inter-oceanic 
canal through Central America, with enlarged plans of the more important commercial 
ports in the world. 

3. LENGTH OF DAY. A scale extending from the Equator to the North Pole, showing 
the comparative duration from the longest day from sunrise to sunset, from 12 hours to 
3 months. 

4. TIME TABLE. Figures on the south margin of the Map, showing the difference of 
time between that of the meridian of Greenwich, and any place on the globe to the east 
and west of it. 

5. CURRENTS OF THE OCEAN. The limits of the currents, as far as known, are all 
defined by shading. Arrows indicate their direction, and their rate of motion in 24 hours 
is given in nautical miles. 

6. FUCUS BANK. The Fucus Bank of Corvo and Flores (Sargaco or Grassy Sea), a 
mass of sea-weed floating in the Atlantic Ocean, so thick as frequently to retard the pro- 
gress of vessels, and so extensive as to cover a surface equal to 260,000 square miles. 

7. STEAM-PACKET ROUTES. The ti’acks followed by steam packets all over the 
world, with distances between the principal ports, and average duration of the passage: 
examples of extraordinary speed, etc. 

8. SOUNDINGS. The depth of the sea, and minimum depth of water on sandbanks, 
are given in fathoms. The position of the greatest depth ever sounded (5 1-4 miles), is 
marked in the South Atlantic Ocean, between St. Helena and the coast of Brazil. 

9. ICE. The limits of permanent and floating ice in summer and winter, showing the 
danger to navigation arising from ice fields, especially in crossing the Atlantic Ocean. 

10. NAVAL ENGAGEMENTS. The positions are marked by two cross guns, and a note 
gives the date of the action. 

11. TELEGRAPHIC COMMUNICATIONS over the globe, printed in red. 

ADDRESS 

R-AJSTD. McNALLY &c CO., 

— - Map Publishers and Engravers , 


—THE 

Bankers’ Directory 

OF THE 

United States and Canada. 

PUBLISHED SEMI-ANNUALLY, IN JANUARY AND JULY. 


A most useful Publication for Business Houses. The 
work is an octavo volume of 500 pages, hand- 
somely printed and bound, containing : 

A list, of Banks, Bankers and Savings Banks in the United States, 
with names of Officers, Capital and Correspondents. 

A list of Banks and Bankers in Canada, with names of Officers and 
United States Correspondents. 

A list of Cashiers of National, State and Private Banks. 

A list of Assistant Cashiers of National, State and Private Banks. 

The Clearing Houses in the United States, with names of Officers. 

A list of European Banks and Bankers. 

A list of Brokers in New York City. 

The Commercial Laws of each State and Territory, including the 
Laws relating to Insolvency, Interest, Taxes, Notes and Bills of 
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A list of reliable Commercial Lawyers. 

(The publishers have inserted only the names of those Attorneys recom- 
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A County Map of each State and Territory, also of the Provinces of 
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Parties making their own collections and whose business covers 
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PRICE, FOUR DOLLARS EACH EDITION, 

including Monthly List of Changes, etc. Sent Prepaid, by Mail, to any Address. 


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“A STRONG MIND IN A SOUND BODY." 



Vitalized Phosphites 

Composed of the Nerve-Giving Principles of the Ox-brain and 
the Embryo of the Wheat and Oat. 


FOR 15 YEARS HAS BEEN THE STANDARD REMEDY with PHYSICIANS 

Who Treat Mental and Nervous Disorders. 


It is the best remedy ever used to enrich the blood ; thus giving a soft, 
clear skin and a beautiful complexion. Many ladies use cosmetics, but 
if Vitalized Phosphites is taken, neither cosmetic nor coloring will be 
required. It aids in the bodily and wonderfully in the mental growth of 
children. It relieves all forms of nervous derangements, lassitude, pros- 
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the Emperor Dom Pedro, with excellent results. It is a VITAL Phos- 
phite, not a Laboratory Phosphate, or Soda Water absurdity. 

For sale by Druggists, or sent by mail, $1. 56 W. 25th St., New York. 


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EVERY COUNTRY IN THE WORLD. 

Globes, Map Racks, Spring Map Rollers, German Maps, Wall and Pocket Maps, Historical 
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of all kinds kept in stock. Address, 

RAND, McNALLY & CO., Map Publishers and Engravers, 

148, 150, 152 and 154 Monroe Street, CHICAGO. 


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